An Undivided Union
by Oliver Optic · English · Gutenberg #25440 · 522,660 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: An Undivided Union
Author: Oliver Optic
Edward Stratemeyer
Release date: May 12, 2008 [eBook #25440]
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN UNDIVIDED UNION ***
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[Illustration: "WATER!" HE MURMURED, "WATER!"
_Page 115._]
_The Blue and the Gray--On Land_
AN UNDIVIDED UNION
BY
OLIVER OPTIC
AUTHOR OF "THE ARMY AND NAVY SERIES" "YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD, FIRST AND
SECOND SERIES" "THE BOAT-CLUB STORIES" "THE GREAT WESTERN SERIES" "THE
WOODVILLE STORIES" "THE ONWARD AND UPWARD SERIES" "THE LAKE SHORE
SERIES" "THE YACHT-CLUB SERIES" "THE RIVERDALE STORIES" "THE
BOAT-BUILDER SERIES" "THE BLUE AND THE GRAY--AFLOAT" "ALL OVER THE
WORLD--FIRST, SECOND, AND THIRD SERIES" "THE BLUE AND THE GRAY--ON LAND"
ETC. ETC. ETC.
COMPLETED BY
EDWARD STRATEMEYER
AUTHOR OF "THE OLD GLORY SERIES" "BOUND TO SUCCEED SERIES" ETC.
BOSTON
LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS
1899
COPYRIGHT, 1899, BY LEE AND SHEPARD.
_All Rights Reserved._
AN UNDIVIDED UNION.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith
Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
_To My Friend_
FRED D. IRISH
WHOSE ENTHUSIASTIC SUPPORT AND SUCCESSFUL EFFORTS
IN DISTRIBUTING MY BOOKS
AMONG THE YOUTH OF THE UNITED STATES
HAS BEEN A CONSTANT INSPIRATION
_This Work is Affectionately Dedicated_
PUBLISHERS' PREFACE
The outline and incomplete material of AN UNDIVIDED UNION were left
among the papers of the late William T. Adams ("Oliver Optic"), and the
same notes that were to complete the "Blue and Gray--On Land" series
also closed the life-work of America's best-known writer of boys'
stories.
There has been a constant demand that this unfinished concluding volume
be prepared for publication, and Mr. Edward Stratemeyer, author of the
remarkably popular "Old Glory" series, based upon the Spanish-American
war, undertook the task of picking up the threads of the narrative and
carrying it to such a conclusion as was evidently intended. He has
performed the work devotedly and successfully, and sustained the harmony
of the series to the end.
The publishers take this opportunity to pay tribute to the memory of Mr.
Adams, whose name has been inseparably connected with this house for so
many years. Such was his loyalty that no manuscript for publication in
bound form was ever given to any other publisher, and the present
volume is the one hundred and eighth to bear the magical name of
"Optic." It is gratifying to be able to record that in return for his
steadfastness in remaining by the house of his choice through prosperity
and adversity an actual sale of more than two million copies of Mr.
Adams's books has been reached, while the present season finds them
enjoying undiminished favor.
No more striking testimonial could be asked than the constant
applications from men of mature life for the books that so charmed them
as boys, in order that their own sons may have the same enjoyment. Or,
could anything be more conclusive than that one of the most prominent
men in the public life of our state still turns to his favorite "Oliver
Optic" books for pleasurable relief when the cares of the day have made
rest seem almost an impossibility?
Critics come and critics go, but the hold of "Oliver Optic" upon the
popular mind remains unchanged. No mean-souled man could so endure. As
he said himself: "I have never written a story which could excite the
love, admiration, and sympathy of the reader for an evil-minded person
or bad character. This has been my standard; and, however others may
regard it, I still deem it a safe one." All who had any connection with
the publication of Mr. Adams's works loved the man, and his visits were
marked with cheerful words for each one, in whatever capacity employed,
and will linger helpfully while life remains. All who knew him join in
honoring the unfailing kindness and clean, true nature of this great
writer and noble friend of youth.
LEE AND SHEPARD.
APRIL 1, 1899.
PREFACE
"AN UNDIVIDED UNION" is the sixth and last volume of the "Blue and
Gray--On Land" series. Like its predecessors it relates the adventures
of the Riverlawn Cavalry, a Union regiment, raised in Kentucky, and
participating in the daring campaigns undertaken by the Army of the
Cumberland. The fifth volume of the series left the regiment at
Murfreesboro, after most gallant service performed at the battle of
Stone River; in the present book is given an account of the operations
around Murfreesboro, before Tullahoma, and through the bloody battles of
Chickamauga, Chattanooga, Lookout Mountain, Missionary Ridge, and other
contests leading up to Sherman's famous March to the Sea.
As in the other stories of this series, Deck Lyon has again come to the
front as a daring hero, but his achievements are closely seconded by his
foster brother, Artie, and by the firm friend of the two, Captain Life
Knox. If Deck does some smart things, it must be remembered that he was
a smart young man or he would not have risen to be senior major, first
battalion, of the Riverlawns. Besides this, the major still had with him
his famous charger, Ceph, a steed with almost human intelligence on
certain points, and one that had helped him to escape from many a
perilous position.
In the completion of this work some thirty authorities have been
consulted, including the Government Records, records of the Army of the
Cumberland, and biographies of the principal generals on both sides who
took part in the various operations. Thus the book has been made, from
an historical standpoint, as accurate as possible. It may be that errors
have crept in, but if so it is hoped that they will not be of sufficient
importance to mar the general usefulness of the volume, outside of its
value as a bit of fiction.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I PAGE
A CALL FOR ASSISTANCE 1
CHAPTER II
AN UNEXPECTED SET-BACK 13
CHAPTER III
THE ENCOUNTERS AT THE BRIDGE AND ON THE RAFT 26
CHAPTER IV
A FIRST VICTORY OVER THE ENEMY 40
CHAPTER V
TWO FLAGS OF TRUCE 53
CHAPTER VI
A MISSING DOCUMENT OF IMPORTANCE 67
CHAPTER VII
IN WHICH THE ENEMY'S SUPPLIES ARE CONFISCATED 80
CHAPTER VIII
THE ENGAGEMENT NEAR SPRING HILL 95
CHAPTER IX
MAJOR DECK LYON MAKES A PROMISE 109
CHAPTER X
A TRIP ON A RAFT 123
CHAPTER XI
THE ENCOUNTER AT THE RAILROAD TRESTLE 137
CHAPTER XII
IN THE BURNING COTTON MILL 150
CHAPTER XIII
AN ADVANCE ALL ALONG THE LINE 163
CHAPTER XIV
ARTIE IS MADE A PRISONER 176
CHAPTER XV
GOSSLEY THE GUERILLA 189
CHAPTER XVI
THE HOLDING-UP OF THE CLOSED CARRIAGE 203
CHAPTER XVII
THE CAPTURE OF THE CONFEDERATE SPY 216
CHAPTER XVIII
THE EVACUATION OF TULLAHOMA 228
CHAPTER XIX
IN WHICH THE RIVERLAWNS ARE CAUGHT IN A TRAP 242
CHAPTER XX
MAJOR LYON WINS A BATTLE AND LOSES HIS HORSE 256
CHAPTER XXI
CROSSING THE TENNESSEE RIVER 269
CHAPTER XXII
THE SIGNALS IN THE DARK 281
CHAPTER XXIII
AN IMPORTANT CAPTURE ON THE MOUNTAINS 294
CHAPTER XXIV
OPERATIONS IN MCLEMORE'S COVE 306
CHAPTER XXV
"HOLD THE HILL FOR TEN MINUTES, AT ANY COST!" 320
CHAPTER XXVI
THE BATTLE OF CHICKAMAUGA 333
CHAPTER XXVII
MAJOR LYON PLAYS THE PART OF A SPY 346
CHAPTER XXVIII
AN ADVENTURE AT CRAWFISH SPRINGS 359
CHAPTER XXIX
MAJOR LYON REJECTS A PROPOSAL 372
CHAPTER XXX
A FRIEND IN NEED 386
CHAPTER XXXI
THROUGH THE ENEMY'S LINES 398
CHAPTER XXXII
THE SECOND DAY AT CHICKAMAUGA 412
CHAPTER XXXIII
CAPTAIN ARTIE LYON IS SHOT DOWN 426
CHAPTER XXXIV
MAJOR LYON MAKES A DISCOVERY AND DELIVERS A MESSAGE 440
CHAPTER XXXV
THE SIEGE OF CHATTANOOGA AND A HUNT FOR DRUGS 453
CHAPTER XXXVI
FIERCE FIGHTING--AN UNDIVIDED UNION--CONCLUSION 468
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"'Water,' he murmured. 'Water!'" _Frontispiece_
PAGE
"'Surrender, or you are a dead man!'" 32
"'So we meet again,' was the salutation Artie received." 190
"His foot caught the man in the face." 249
Captain Vallingham attempting to escape. 308
"'Say, Major, tumble right down yere!'" 352
"He found himself face to face with the Confederate captain." 428
AN UNDIVIDED UNION
CHAPTER I
A CALL FOR ASSISTANCE
"How many miles have we still to go, Deck?"
"Not over seven by this road, Artie," replied Major Deck Lyon,
commanding the first battalion, Riverlawn Cavalry, of Kentucky. "I
should think the surroundings would begin to look familiar to you, even
if we have been away from home for some time."
"I never frequented this road," exclaimed Captain Artie Lyon, commanding
the fourth company of the Riverlawns. "Doesn't it run into that cut
where you saved Kate Belthorpe and the rest of her party from that gang
of so-styled 'Home Guard' ruffians?"
"I believe it does," was the slow response, and Major Dexter Lyon
blushed; for although the incident referred to had occurred many months
before, it was still fresh in his mind, as were also the beautiful face
and bewitching eyes of the maiden. The young major was but nineteen
years of age, and it could hardly be said that he was in love, yet a
warm attachment had sprung up between these two people. "Does your wound
trouble you in riding, Artie?" he went on, to change the subject, and
thus prevent his cousin from teasing him in his most susceptible spot.
"Not enough to count." Artie paused to urge his lagging horse ahead. "I
wonder if any of Morgan's desperadoes are in this neighborhood. I
understood from what Captain Ripley said that they were trying to
overrun the whole State. It's a pity we haven't more of such first-class
sharpshooters around as he commands."
"What's the matter with Life Knox's tall boys, Artie? I reckon they can
shoot about as well as any of Ripley's men, even though they are not as
well drilled. If I know anything about it, Life is a whole host in
himself."
"Oh, I agree with you there, Deck." There was another pause as the pair
of horsemen swung around a heavily wooded bend. "What a pity father
couldn't get a furlough to come home with us. I don't believe he would
have been missed, when the main body of the Department of the Cumberland
is doing nothing but keeping an eye on Bragg. Mother and the girls would
have been delighted to see--Hullo, if there isn't Levi Bedford coming
this way--and with half a dozen of the boys! Something is up, sure!"
As Captain Artie broke off, a tall, heavy-set man, mounted on a
coal-black horse, burst into view, riding at a high rate of speed.
Behind the man came six stout negroes; and all of the party carried
guns, and the white man a pistol in addition.
"Hi, Levi!" yelled Major Deck, as soon as the party of seven came within
hailing distance.
"Deck!" burst out the overseer of Riverlawn. "And Artie, by all that's
fortunate!"
"De young mars'rs!" came from several of the colored men. "Proud to see
yo', Mars'r Dexter, an' Mars'r Artie!"
At this Deck and Artie smiled on the slaves. Deck shook hands with Levi
Bedford, and Artie followed suit. "Is there any special reason for this
meeting being fortunate, Levi?" questioned the major, anxiously.
"I think so," was the hasty answer. "Less than two hours ago, and just
after I had made the rounds at Riverlawn, to make sure that everything
was all right, and no marauders in sight, I received this note." And the
overseer passed over a small sheet of note-paper, upon which a few lines
were written in pencil, in a small hand.
"DEAR MR. BEDFORD: If you can, come to our assistance at once.
A detachment of three soldiers of Morgan's cavalry has arrived
at Lyndhall. One of the three is to return to his company at
once and bring them here to plunder the estate. I am at home
alone with my sister Kate and three servants. The negro who
delivers this is a stranger to me, but well known to my father.
"MARGIE BELTHORPE."
"Kate in danger!" The words left Deck's lips before he could think to
repress them. "Levi, we must not waste a moment in getting to Lyndhall!"
"Just my idea," responded the overseer. "I didn't lose a minute in
getting the boys together, after I received that. Some of the boys were
out in the back pasture, rounding up two stallions that broke away; but
I sent word for them to follow, and I reckon they'll soon be after us,
four or five strong."
"Four more will give you eleven men, counting yourself. Artie and I will
make thirteen. An unlucky number--for those ruffians, if we get to
Lyndhall in time. Forward!" and Major Deck wheeled his horse, followed
by Captain Artie; and away went the entire party at the best speed their
animals could command.
The time was the middle of the month of January, 1863, and the Army of
the Cumberland, under General Rosecrans, was resting in and around
Murfreesboro. The long, stubborn fight at Stone River had exhausted the
men, and no new campaign could be undertaken until the wrecked and
burned lines of communication were restored, the army reclothed and
otherwise put into proper shape, and the necessary steps taken to make
Murfreesboro safe as a new base of supplies.
As the readers of the former volumes of this series know, the Riverlawn
Cavalry was one of the first to be organized in the State of Kentucky,
at the time when the Commonwealth was still undecided as to whether it
should remain in the Union or throw its lot in with the Confederacy.
The original body of men, forming two companies, had been raised very
largely by Noah Lyon, the father of Dexter, who had used them in putting
down the lawless uprisings of the Home Guards of the neighborhood--a mob
of unprincipled fellows who, under the guise of wishing to defend
Kentucky's neutrality during the great conflict, secretly plotted to aid
the Confederacy, and later on, when the Commonwealth declared for the
Union, promptly joined the ranks of the Secessionists.
From two companies the command had developed to a full regiment of
twelve companies, of which Noah Lyon was colonel. Following his father
into the war, Dexter had, by hard work and a bravery which sometimes
bordered on recklessness, risen from the ranks until he became senior
major, while his cousin Artie, of about Deck's age, had well earned the
commission of a captain. Both had been wounded more than once, Artie
rather seriously, and both were known to care little or nothing for the
injuries received in such a righteous cause.
The first duty of the Riverlawns as a regular military body had been to
put down the raids of several bands of guerillas operating in counties
bordering upon, or near, the Tennessee State line. Successful in these,
the command had become a part of the Union army, and as such had taken
an active part in the battle of Mill Springs, or Logan's Crossroads, as
it is sometimes called. After this had come a series of operations on
and around Duck River, and in the entrenchments before Corinth, and then
had come the advance of Rosecrans's forces upon Murfreesboro, ending in
the bloody battle of Stone River, which, while hardly a victory, caused
the shattered forces of the Confederate General Bragg to retreat, and go
into winter quarters at Tullahoma.
Although each of the Lyons fought with the warmth and enthusiasm of a
true Kentuckian, not one of the members of the several families living
at Riverlawn and at Barcreek, a small, nearby town, had been born within
the borders of the State. All hailed from New Hampshire, and were Yankee
bred as well as born.
The original emigrant to Kentucky had been Duncan Lyon, one of four
brothers, who had settled at Riverlawn and made a comfortable fortune
in raising hemp, tobacco, and horses. Duncan Lyon had been as
good-hearted as he was successful, and under his care Riverlawn had
become a model plantation and stock-breeding farm, with Levi Bedford as
superintendent or overseer, and with fifty-one slaves, old and young,
who thought "Mars'r Lyon de best gen'men in de hull world."
The next member of the family to come West had been Titus Lyon, another
of the four brothers. Titus was a mason by trade, and inclined to be
shiftless, and when Duncan Lyon wrote that the mason at Barcreek was
dead, Titus had very promptly come on with his wife, two sons, and three
daughters. It had taken a good deal of help from Duncan to place Titus
on his feet, and even then the proprietor of Riverlawn was pained to
note that the mason was more inclined to loaf around the village,
drinking whiskey and talking politics, than he was to work at his trade.
During the times that Duncan Lyon and Titus were locating in Kentucky,
Noah Lyon was attending strictly to his farm in New Hampshire, not a
large place, but still one upon which, by economy, he managed to earn a
living not only for himself, his wife, and his two children, Dexter and
Hope, but also for the two children of his deceased brother Cyrus,
Artemas and Dorcas. From the time that Artie and Dorcas came into the
family they were looked upon as brother and sister by Deck and Hope, and
both always referred to Mr. and Mrs. Noah Lyon as father and mother.
The somewhat unexpected death of Duncan Lyon had proved a shock to all
his relatives, but when Lawyer Cosgrove, of Bowling Green, the county
seat, came forward to read the plantation owner's will, the second
shock, to Titus Lyon, was even greater than the first.
Duncan Lyon had valued his estate at one hundred thousand dollars.
Riverlawn was put down as being worth twenty-five thousand dollars, and
this magnificent property, including all things in the house and on the
grounds and the fifty-one slaves, went to Noah Lyon, who likewise
received ten thousand dollars, half cash and half stocks, for having
taken care of Artie and Dorcas since they had become orphans. It may
here be remarked that Duncan Lyon had been a bachelor, and had never
felt capable of raising the children himself. To the children he left
one-quarter of his estate, half cash and half stocks, Noah to remain
their guardian until of age.
Of the balance of his property he gave to Titus only twenty-five
thousand dollars, from which amount was to be deducted a note for five
thousand, leaving the mason twenty thousand dollars, half cash and half
in stocks. All the stocks to be divided were named in a schedule, so
there might be no disputes.
As might be supposed, Titus Lyon was very angry over the provisions of
his brother's will, thinking that Riverlawn should have been settled
upon himself. When Noah Lyon gave up his home in the East to take charge
of Riverlawn, Titus did not call upon him for several days, and for some
time after that the unreasonable mason talked about being swindled out
of five thousand dollars, he thinking he ought to have had half of the
ten thousand given to Noah for supporting Cyrus's children, although he
had never lifted a hand to assist the orphans.
With the breaking out of the war Titus had been in his element. Strange
as it may seem, he had sided with the South in the struggle, and had
even gone so far as to spend a large amount of money in equipping a
company of Home Guards, of which he was to be captain. But the arms and
ammunition, hidden away in a cavern, had been discovered by Artie and
Deck who had turned them over to Noah Lyon, for use, later on, by the
Unionists. This confiscation of property had made matters even worse
between the two families, and for a long while Titus and his two sons
were very bitter. They entered the Confederate service much against the
wishes of Titus's wife, and while serving under the stars and bars one
of the sons, Orly, was killed and Titus was taken prisoner.
His own capture and the killing of Orly, coupled with the fact that
Sandy, the older son, was nearly starved while in the Southern service,
produced a profound impression upon Titus Lyon. While a prisoner he gave
up drinking and signed the pledge. Then when Sandy suddenly left the
Confederate service to enlist on the Union side under his Uncle Noah, he
began to study the situation, and he wrote to Noah that he had seen the
error of his ways and was now for the Union, once and forever. Later on
he was released, and he joined the Riverlawns, to become adjutant of the
regiment in which Sandy was now a second lieutenant of the fifth
company, second battalion, the battalion being commanded by Major Tom
Belthorpe, of Lyndhall and the company by Captain Gadbury, a dashing
young soldier, who was far more attentive to Margie Belthorpe than Deck
Lyon had ever dared to be to her younger sister.
There had been but one thing concerning Duncan Lyon's will which had
excited much curiosity when the document was read and when the lawyer
having the matter in hand had had his say. This was concerning the
fifty-one negroes installed at Riverlawn. Noah Lyon was requested not to
part with any of them. Furthermore, the heir to the plantation was left
a sealed letter which was not to be opened until five years later. The
Lyons sometimes imagined the contents of the letter concerned the
disposition of the slaves, but they had no positive information on the
point.
CHAPTER II
AN UNEXPECTED SET-BACK
Deck Lyon was mounted on his famous horse Ceph, so nicknamed after the
even more famous charger ridden in ancient days by Alexander the Great.
The young major had trained Ceph from ponyhood, and rider and beast
understood each other perfectly. On more than one occasion Ceph had
performed in a truly wonderful fashion on the battlefield, and once,
when being promoted, Deck had declared that the honor of the occasion
rested with his equine comrade and not himself.
As the small body of whites and negroes moved onward in the direction of
the Belthorpe plantation, Deck took the lead, with Artie and the
faithful Levi close behind him. In the rear came the armed slaves riding
in two ranks of three men each. The men could hardly be termed soldiers,
yet during the time that Noah Lyon had been away from Riverlawn the
overseer had drilled them thoroughly, both in horsemanship and in
carbine practice, and they were, consequently, a long way removed from
raw recruits. Moreover, upon the occasion of the attack upon Riverlawn,
they had been under fire and had not flinched, so it was known that they
could be depended upon even in a hazardous emergency.
Even without such a fine bit of horseflesh under him, Deck would have
been anxious to go to the front. The note received by Levi filled him
with alarm, and in his mind all sorts of troublesome thoughts ran riot.
The Belthorpe sisters were at home alone, two of Morgan's guerillas were
in possession of Lyndhall, and a whole company were soon expected. What
indignities might not the sisters suffer, not to say anything of the
confiscation and ruin of Mr. Belthorpe's property?
"This is certainly rough on Kate," observed Artie, as he advanced to his
cousin's side. "We ought to have Captain Gadbury with us--for Margie's
sake."
"If only those ruffians don't attempt to carry Margie and Kate off,"
half groaned the major, biting the lip upon which a faint mustache was
beginning to show. "I suppose the major would be at Lyndhall, only
father didn't think it wise to let so many officers off at one time.
Levi, what did the negro who delivered the note have to say?"
"Nothing."
"Not a word?" queried Artie.
"Absolutely not a word--and for the best reason in the world: he was
deaf and dumb," and the overseer smiled broadly. "I tried to question
him, but he only shook his head and pointed to his tongue."
"Humph! I didn't know there was a deaf and dumb negro around Lyndhall,"
mused Deck. "Forward, boys, we mustn't lag!" he shouted to the ranks in
the rear.
"We's comin', Mars'r, jest as fast as we kin come!" answered the servant
called General, who was the "high private" of the occasion. "Come, don't
yo' go fo' to drap behind, Clinker!" he cried out to the heaviest man of
the crowd, the blacksmith and horseshoer at Riverlawn.
"Ain't drappin' behind," growled Clinker. "I'll git to Lyndhall afore
yo' do, yo' don't look out," and away he galloped after Deck and the
others.
The day was frosty but clear, an ideal one for a ride, and mile after
mile was passed, between the now almost barren fields, and through long
groves of leafless trees. The horses from Riverlawn had always been
boasted of as being the best in that section of the country, and now
they were proving their worth.
The mansion home of the Belthorpes stood near the road, with the
plantation extending to both sides and to the rear. At a distance up the
highway upon which Major Deck and the others were travelling was a grove
of walnut trees, and as soon as this grove was reached the young
commander of the forces called a halt.
"We don't want to run into an ambush," he explained to Levi and Artie.
"For all we know to the contrary, that whole company of guerillas may be
in possession of Lyndhall, and if they have got wind of the fact that
word has been sent out for assistance, it may go hard with us, if we are
caught napping. I'll go on a scout, and if the coast is clear I'll come
back and tell you. If I get into trouble a couple of pistol shots will
notify you."
To carry out his object, the major dismounted and turned Ceph over to
one of the servants. Then, examining his pistol to see that it was in
proper condition for use, he struck out boldly, along a path which ran
through the walnuts and came up over a lawn fringed by magnolias, to the
south of the mansion.
Deck did not slacken his pace until the magnolias were reached. Here,
from an opening, he looked toward the house. Not a soul was in sight,
and pistol in hand, he crept along the line of trees until he was within
fifty feet of a side veranda.
At this moment the door to the veranda opened and a girl stepped out,
clad in a house dress, with a cape thrown around her shoulders and a
worsted shawl caught over her head in bonnet fashion. Deck did not have
to look twice to convince himself that the girl was Kate Belthorpe.
"Kate!" he cried, softly and half involuntarily. "Kate!"
The girl, hearing his voice, stopped short and stared around her in
amazement. Then, as he waved his hand to her, she ran down the steps of
the veranda, and reaching him, almost embraced him.
"Oh, Deck! Why I--I didn't know you were coming here!" she stammered,
with a blush. "Are you home on a furlough?"
"Yes--fortunately, Kate," he answered, remembering that they had kissed
before, yet hardly daring to do so now--since, to him at least, his
intentions were becoming serious. "I--I trust they haven't harmed you
and Margie any? Where are the ruffians? Have the whole company arrived
yet?"
The girl started and stared at him. "Why, Deck, what are you talking
about? I know nothing of any ruffians."
The major was nearly dumfounded by this announcement. "You don't know?"
he queried slowly. "Then what does this mean? Levi Bedford received it
less than three hours ago."
It took but a moment for Kate Belthorpe to master the contents of the
note. "I don't know what it means," she said. "I don't believe Margie
ever wrote it. Come in, she is in the sitting room, writing a letter to
brother Tom."
With his mind in a whirl the young major followed Kate into Lyndhall
mansion. Margie was found as described, and was equally astonished to
see him. The situation was explained, and she glanced at the note.
"It is a forgery, and is not even in my hand-writing, Deck," she said
quickly. "There is some underhanded work here."
"Yes, and I know what it is!" cried Deck. "That note was penned with the
intention of getting Levi and the negroes away from Riverlawn. My
father's place may even now be suffering an attack. I must get home
without an instant's delay!"
"Oh, I trust you are mistaken, Deck!" murmured Kate, her beautiful eyes
filling with tears. "What will your mother and your sisters do?"
"Heaven alone knows, Kate," he answered, his voice growing curiously
husky. "Artie and I were going home when we met Levi and six of the
slaves on the road. Four or five other slaves were to follow, so it is
safe to say that out of about fifteen men who can use firearms
two-thirds are now away from Riverlawn and awaiting me in the walnut
grove just below here. Good-by!" and he held out his hand.
"Good-by, and take care of yourself!" burst in Margie, and gave him a
warm brotherly kiss. Seeing this, Kate did not hold back, and Deck sped
from the mansion with the warm contact of her sweet lips still haunting
him.
But now was no time for sentiment, however delightful it might prove,
and the young major burst into the grove all out of breath with running.
"Quick, to Riverlawn!" he shouted, as he leaped again into the saddle.
"We have not a moment to lose! The note was a decoy, to get Levi and the
others to leave our house. Pray Heaven we may reach there before mother
and the others are subjected to insult, or before any damage is done!"
"A decoy!" gasped Levi Bedford. He could scarcely believe his ears.
"Then that negro was not dumb, I'll wager! Boys," he turned to the
slaves, "did any of you see that fellow who brought Mrs. Lyon the note
this morning?"
"'Deed I did, sah!" came from Clinker.
"So did I, sah," put in Woolly, another of the body.
"Did either of you hear him speak?"
Clinker shook his head. Woolly, however, smiled shrewdly. "I dun racken
I did, Mars'r Bedford, when he crossed de creek bridge. But I dunno wot
he said, fo' I was a right smart step off."
"It doesn't matter what he said," replied Levi. He turned to Deck. "You
are right. I have been badly fooled, and don't deserve to hold the
position with which your father entrusted me--that of taking care of his
family and his property."
"Don't blame yourself, Levi," Deck hastened to say, seeing how bad the
overseer felt. "You did what you thought was right, and what I should
have done under the circumstances. The best we can do is to get over the
ground just as lively as we can, and if you know of any short cuts to
take, so much the better."
They were already going ahead at full speed, Deck and Levi in the lead
and Artie and the negroes following as rapidly as possible. "I was
thinking, we might take the trail through Charwell meadow--the ground is
stiff enough to hold horseflesh," observed the manager of Riverlawn.
"But that may make us miss the four or five fellows who were to follow
us, and if anything is wrong at Riverlawn, we may want all the help we
can gather."
"How much will the Charwell trail shorten the ride?"
"A good mile and three-quarters, possibly two miles, if the ground at
the lower end is hard."
"Then let us take that short cut, all but Clinker, who can take the
regular road and turn back the second detachment as soon as it comes
up," answered the young major, unconsciously speaking in military terms,
as was now his usual habit.
"Good! You've got a long head--just as you always had!" cried Levi, and
in a minute more Clinker was instructed into the new order of things.
Shortly after this the others left the road and took to a well-defined
trail running through a woods and then across the meadow previously
described. At the end of the meadow the party came out upon the road
running almost parallel with the creek, but at a considerable distance
above the spot where the bridge to Colonel Lyon's domain was located.
"Halt!" cried Deck, as the horsemen reached the edge of the clearing.
"Don't show yourselves until I give the order."
"I think Levi and I ought to go forward with you, Deck," interposed
Artie, who was thinking of his sister, as well as of his Aunt Ruth and
his Cousin Hope.
"Well, you can go; but we must be careful not to expose ourselves to the
enemy," was the ready reply of the major, who had unconsciously taken
command of the expedition.
"Supposing we separate," went on Artie. "One can go up to the bridge,
one down to where the logs are usually tied up, and one over to the
bend. That will give us three points of observation."
"Right you are, Artie. General Thomas couldn't have planned it better,"
answered Deck. "I'll go to the bridge, and you can go down to the logs.
Levi, is there a raft handy?"
"There is, just above the logs, and there is a canoe up at the bend. We
used it day before yesterday, when Faraway and I went over and came back
by the bridge."
"Then it will be an easy matter for us to make an advance all along the
line. What of Fort Bedford?" continued the major, referring to the
ice-house which, during the early troubles at Riverlawn, had been
turned into an arsenal. The so-styled fort was built along the creek,
almost opposite the point where the logs and the raft rested.
"It's still there, but it contains little outside of a few guns and two
boxes of ammunition."
"I was thinking, if those rascals are here, and the worst comes to the
worst, it will be a good thing if we can take possession of the fort,
and use it in defending my mother and the girls and ourselves."
"If the coast is clear, I'll move for the fort without delay," said
Artie. "One man can hold that place, if the doors and the portholes are
properly secured."
"That's so, but don't do anything rash, Artie," said Deck, gravely.
"Remember what Ripley said--those guerillas of Morgan's are the worst
cut-throats Kentucky has ever seen."
"Artie might wait until I can help him," suggested Levi. "If the fort
isn't occupied now, it won't take long to get the boys over to it in the
canoe and with a small raft in tow."
And so it was arranged that the young captain should wait on the
movements of the overseer, and this decided, the three set off on their
various missions.
CHAPTER III
THE ENCOUNTERS AT THE BRIDGE AND ON THE RAFT
At the time of which I write the name of Morgan's Cavalry was already
known throughout the length and breadth of Kentucky, and those of the
inhabitants who were on the side of the Union heard of his coming to one
neighborhood or another with dread.
When the boys in blue were refitting at Nashville, late in the year
1862, Morgan, having made several raids in Kentucky, though hardly, as
yet, any of consequence, determined to visit the State once more, taking
with him the pick of the Confederate cavalry of this section of our
country. His first engagement was with a few companies of Michigan
troops, on the 24th of December, where he suffered a loss of seventeen
men. On Christmas Day came an engagement near Munfordsville, and then
the notorious leader attacked the stockade at Bacon Creek. A vigorous
resistance was made, but the explosion of a number of shells within the
enclosure made a surrender necessary, and this was followed by the
burning of the bridge across Bacon Creek, after which Morgan advanced to
Nolan, where another bridge was destroyed.
The march of the cavalry was now turned toward Elizabethtown, and here a
fierce fight occurred between the Confederates and a body of six hundred
infantry under Lieutenant-Colonel Smith, which lasted six hours. The
infantry could do but little against the superior numbers of the
cavalry, although fighting valorously, and in the end Morgan gained his
point and began a march along the railroad, destroying everything in
sight as he advanced.
It had been hoped by Bragg that Morgan's raid would help the cause of
the South a great deal; but the sudden movement of Rosecrans from
Nashville to Murfreesboro dimmed the glory considerably. On the 29th of
December Morgan was attacked at Rolling Fork on Salt River and driven to
Bardstown, from which point he began to make his slow but certain
retreat from the State.
Captain Ripley, Deck's friend of the sharpshooters, had called Morgan's
cavalry cut-throats. This was an appellation common in those days, but
it is hardly justifiable. But there is no doubt that a portion of the
raiders were men of low moral character, and these fellows, when
foraging, thought it no more than right to confiscate everything in
sight. In the neighborhoods strong in Union sentiment whole plantations
were laid waste, and the women and children made to suffer untold
indignities.
It has been said that Morgan himself had left the State. This was true,
but numerous detachments of the cavalrymen remained, some under captains
and lieutenants who held no commissions in the Confederate army, and
these were mixed up with guerillas,--lawless bodies,--who, while
pretending to fight for the Southern cause, thought only of murder and
plunder. For these latter bodies Morgan was not responsible, yet they
were spoken of everywhere as Morgan's Raiders.
From the very start of hostilities there had been a strong sentiment in
Barcreek and vicinity against the dwellers at Riverlawn. Here the first
Union cavalry companies had been formed, and from this house a father
and two sons (Artie was always called the colonel's son) had gone forth.
More than this, Colonel Lyon had declared that all he possessed should
go to uphold the Union cause were it needed. Those of Confederate
tendencies had muttered against this, and ever since the first attack on
Riverlawn had been repulsed, numerous "fire-eaters" had longed for a
chance to "get square."
Deck thought of all these things as he moved from the shelter of the
clearing along the creek in the direction of the bridge. From one source
and another he had learned of a score of men of the vicinity joining
Morgan's Raiders, and he felt certain now that these fellows would be
found among those bent on the looting of his father's estate.
The young major could not get his mind away from a certain rowdy of
Barcreek who rejoiced in the name of Gaffy Denny. At a Union meeting
held at the schoolhouse when the war began, Deck had refused this man
admittance to the building, even when the ruffian drew a bowie-knife,
and had caused the fellow to decamp by showing his pistol. Since this
time he had heard twice from Denny--first that he had joined the
guerillas operating throughout the county, and again that he was trying
to pay his addresses to Dorcas, who, it may readily be imagined, would
have nothing to do with him. Denny was a man of thirty-five, a "hoss"
trader when he worked, which was but seldom, and as sly and nervy as he
was unprincipled.
"If Gaffy Denny is in this, he shall hear from me," murmured the major,
as he worked his way along the creek's shore. There was a low fringe of
brush overhanging the water, and he skulked behind this, passing the few
breaks encountered by crawling on his chest through the grass. His
progress was necessarily slow, and it took five minutes to reach the
bridge, although the distance from the clearing was not more than an
eighth of a mile.
From behind the brush he had more than once looked over in the direction
of the mansion. Not a soul had appeared in sight, and had he not known
otherwise, he would have said that the homestead was deserted.
When within half a rod of the bridge the major halted, for a slight
movement behind the tree overshadowing the bridge seat--that seat where
his father and Uncle Titus had once so bitterly quarrelled--had
attracted his attention.
"Was that a squirrel or a man's hat?" was the question he asked himself,
when the view of something else answered the question. The new object to
come into view was the elbow of a man, and the shining barrel of a gun
followed.
"A guard, I'll wager my commission," was Deck's thought. "I wonder if he
is alone and if I can capture him single-handed."
The major, having led the way into many a hot fight, was not the one to
hang back in such an emergency as this. Even while wondering if the man
on the bridge was alone, he hurried forward, keeping the tree between
himself and the individual. The bridge was gained and the tree was but
three yards off when a partly loose plank tipped up, making enough noise
to attract the attention of the man, who leaped forward, pointing his
gun as he came.
"Halt!" he spluttered, but the word was still on his lips when Deck
ducked, caught the gun barrel with his left hand, and with his right
levelled his pistol full into the sentinel's face.
"Surrender, or you are a dead man!" commanded Major Deck, sternly. "Let
go of the gun."
The fellow, taken completely by surprise, hesitated, as if inclined to
argue the point. "Wha--what?" he stammered. "See yere, this ain't fair,
nohow!"
"Let go, or I'll fire," was Deck's only answer, and he fingered the
trigger of his revolver nervously.
In a second more he had the gun in his possession, and then he compelled
the man to throw up both hands. "Now march up the road away from the
bridge," he continued. "And no treachery, or I'll put a ball through you
on the spot."
"I reckon I have fell in with Deck Lyon," said the sentinel, with a
sickly grin, as he moved on as the major had commanded.
"I am Deck Lyon; but I don't know you, although I've seen you at Bowling
Green. What do they call you?"
"They call me Sergeant Hank Scudder in our company."
[Illustration: "SURRENDER, OR YOU ARE A DEAD MAN!"
_Page 32._]
"And what company is that?"
"Cap'n Casswell's command--unattached."
"Casswell's guerillas, eh?"
"We ain't guerillas--we belong to the boys in gray."
"Does your captain hold a commission from headquarters?"
"'Tain't fer me to answer thet question, Major."
"From the fact that you refuse to answer it, I infer that he does not;
consequently he is nothing but a guerilla, and worse, and you are--"
"Hold on, Major, don't be too hard on a poor fellow who has his living
to make."
"This isn't making a living--it's stealing one. Tell me truthfully, is
Gaffy Denny with your company?"
"Gaffy Denny is first leftenant, Major."
"Where are the others?"
"Somewhere around the house and barns."
"How long since you arrived here?"
"'Bout an hour and a half ago."
"How many are there here? Answer me truthfully, or, my word for it, I
and my friends will hang you to one of yonder trees."
"Got many friends with yer, Major?"
"Enough. Now answer my question," and again Deck's weapon came up on a
level with the guerilla's head.
"There air twenty-five on us, I reckon."
"Were you the only man left on guard?"
"I dunno."
"Who put you on guard?"
"Leftenant Denny."
"Isn't Captain Casswell in command?"
"No, the cap'n was shot down in a skirmish three days ago--back of
Edmonton, and he's laying at the house of a friend ten miles from yere."
While talking the pair had moved across the road, and now Deck turned
his prisoner in the direction of the clearing. Soon they came in sight
of General, Clinker, and one other of the slaves.
"The first prisoner, General," said the young officer. "Have you
anything with which to bind him?"
"Look yere, Major, this ain't handsome!" cried Sergeant Hank Scudder, in
alarm.
"Handsome or not, you can thank your stars that I didn't shoot you dead
on the bridge," rejoined Deck. "How about a cord, General?"
"We dun got one, Mars'r Deck," answered the slave, and producing it he
and Clinker soon bound the guerilla's hands behind him, after which the
rope at his wrists was passed around a stout tree.
Deck's next movement was in the direction of the raft, for nothing was
to be seen of Artie, and he was anxious to know how the young captain
was faring. He had hardly reached the pile of logs to which the raft was
moored, when a sharp cry rang out on the frosty air.
"Help! General, Woolly, Clinker! Help!" There followed another cry, and
leaping through the brush and onto the logs Deck saw his cousin battling
manfully in a hand-to-hand conflict with two rough men in gray, one of
whom was trying to possess himself of the captain's sabre.
In such an emergency Major Deck did not hesitate as to a proper course
of action. Had the men been regular Confederates he would have been
justified in shooting at them; being guerillas he felt himself even more
justified. He took careful aim and fired, and the rascal who had just
wrenched the sabre from Artie's grasp fell, shot through the thigh, an
ugly wound though not a fatal one.
Surprised at the counter-demonstration thus made, the second guerilla
turned to see from what direction the shot had come. Giving him no
chance in which to take in the situation, Deck fired a second time, the
bullet whistling past the man in gray's shoulder. With a yell the fellow
started to retreat from the logs, slipped on the wet and frost-covered
surface beneath him, and rolled over and over until he went with a loud
splash into the creek, not to reappear upon the surface of the icy
current until fifty feet away.
"Artie, are you hurt?" demanded Deck, as he watched the man who had gone
overboard.
"N--no, but th--that man nearly choked the life out of me," was the
answer, with a cough. "Don't let him get away," and the young captain
nodded toward the guerilla who was making for the plantation side of the
creek.
"He shan't get away." Deck elevated his voice and his shooter at the
same time. "Come back here, unless you want a hole put through your
head!" he called out.
To this the guerilla did not reply. But he kept on swimming, and seeing
this both Deck and Artie fired. A yell of pain was the answer to the
shots, and the man turned around.
"Are you coming back?" demanded Deck.
"Yes! yes! don't shoot ag'in!" came with something like a groan.
The wounded man on the logs was writhing in pain, but nothing could be
done for him just now, and Deck and Artie watched the man in the water.
"I'm a goner!" came from the individual of a sudden, and throwing up
both arms he disappeared from view.
For the instant Deck stared blankly and Artie looked at him. "Was that a
genuine move, or is he shamming?" questioned the captain.
"I take it he is shamming," answered the major. "I don't believe he was
badly wounded at all. Wait," and he continued to watch.
In half a minute the body of the guerilla appeared, a hundred feet below
the logs. "Turn back here, or I'll put a bullet through your body for
luck!" sang out Deck, and raised his pistol again.
"Don't! don't!" came the quick reply. "I'll come--don't hit me ag'in,
Cap'n!"
In less than five minutes after this the guerilla was on the raft once
more. Deck was on the point of marching him up into the grove by the
creek road when Levi Bedford came up in the canoe, demanding to know
what the several shots meant. He was highly pleased to think that three
men had already been put out of the contest.
"I've discovered the guerillas moving around at the back of the mansion
and around the largest of the barns," he said. "Now that you have used
your pistols the best thing to do, in my opinion, is to get over to the
fort and take possession of it."
"You are right," returned Deck. "Let us go over on the raft, as first
proposed; but General can come around by the bridge and bring all of the
horses, or keep them where they will be handy in case they are wanted.
We ought not to give these guerillas the least chance to escape."
The General was called from his hiding-place and matters were explained.
While he went off with the horses, Levi Bedford led the way to the raft
and unmoored her, fastening the painter to the stern of the canoe,
which, though so called, was, as old readers already know, really a
round-bottom rowboat. The overseer, Deck, and Artie entered the canoe,
the first two at the oars, while the slaves deposited themselves on the
raft, doing what they could to aid their progress over the stream by
means of several sweeps which had been picked up.
CHAPTER IV
A FIRST VICTORY OVER THE ENEMY
It may be asked why a rush was not made upon the mansion and barns,
instead of the stealthy advance now under way. The answer to this is,
Deck and the others knew that the force to be encountered was larger
than their own, and probably just as well, if not better, armed.
Moreover, the young major felt that some of the guerillas must be on the
lookout from the mansion, and an advance across the lawn in front and to
one side, or the meadow to the rear and the other side, could only have
been accomplished after a serious loss of life. The guerillas of
Kentucky were for the most part "dead-shots," and the youthful commander
was not inclined to risk his men in the open against their superior
numbers.
The creek at the point where the raft had been moored was between sixty
and seventy feet wide, consequently the journey to the other side did
not occupy over five minutes, even though the raft was an unwieldy thing
to handle. As soon as they were near enough to do so, all hands leaped
into the meadow grass, and started on a rush for Fort Bedford.
Bang! bang! bang! The three shots in rapid succession came from the rear
of the largest barn, and Deck felt something rush through his cap and
his hair beneath. A groan came from Clinker, who was struck in the side.
The negro staggered but kept on, his eyes rolling and staring from a
pain that was new to him.
"'Tain't much, I reckon," he panted, in reply to Levi Bedford's
question. "Anybuddy else hit?"
Nobody was, and without halting to return the fire they pressed on. Soon
they were under the shelter of the ice-house, as dark and silent as the
rest of the plantation had previously appeared.
"I left it locked up," explained Levi Bedford, when Artie gave a cry as
he caught sight of the door. The heavy slabs of wood had been smashed in
with a stout log used as a battering-ram, and a hasty search revealed
the fact that the arms and ammunition, the overseer had mentioned, had
been carried away.
As the party passed into the building several more shots were fired at
them, but the bullets merely found resting-places in the woodwork or
flattened themselves on the stone walls. Levi Bedford now saw one of the
shooters near the edge of the barn and fired his rifle, but whether or
not the shot took effect he could not ascertain.
"Well, we are here," said Artie, after Clinker's wound had been examined
and dressed. "The question is, what's next?"
Deck silently counted their forces again. As General was absent, they
numbered but eight including himself. He shook his head seriously.
"We are but eight, and if that captured rascal is to be believed they
have three times that number," he said.
"But our other negroes must be around somewhere," said Artie, "and
they'll need some men to guard the women folks,--unless they have locked
them up,--or--or--"
"Or done away with them," finished Deck, bitterly. "For myself, I am
ready to make a dash forward, be the consequence what it may. But I
can't ask it of you and the slaves," and he turned to the overseer.
"I'll do whatever you think best, Major," responded Levi, warmly. "But
supposing I go out with a flag of truce and learn what they have to
say?"
"Hadn't I better go along?" asked Deck, eagerly.
"If you wish--yes."
A handkerchief was soon tied to a stick, and, leaving Artie in command
of the armed slaves, the young major and the overseer sallied forth,
waving the flag of truce over their heads. They started toward the
mansion, but before half the distance was covered a loud and rough voice
from the barn called upon them to halt, and they halted.
"Come this way with thet rag!" was the next order. "If ye go to the
house we'll open fire on ye!"
As there seemed no help for it, Deck and Levi turned toward the barn.
While still a hundred feet from the building they were ordered to halt
again, and then a man in gray, wearing a tangled beard of black, with
matted hair to match, came forth to greet them.
"Well?" he demanded laconically, as the major and the overseer paused.
"Dan Wolfall, what does this mean?" demanded Levi, recognizing the
individual as a former citizen of Barcreek, and one who had left
"between two days" because of a horse stealing which had been laid at
his door.
Wolfall grinned, thereby showing a set of uneven yellow teeth, much the
worse for constant tobacco chewing. "I reckon as how it means we-uns is
in persession o' this yere plantation," he answered slowly, shifting his
quid from one jaw to the other.
"Whom do you mean by we-uns?" asked Deck.
"Me an' the rest o' Captain Casswell's company o' Confederates, sonny.
Say, you feel big in them sodger clothes, don't ye?" Wolfall asked, with
another grin.
"Do you know that you are liable to be shot down or hung as outlaws?"
went on Deck.
"Reckon we air jest as liable ter be shot down as Confed'rates, ain't
we?"
"Such men as you would be a disgrace even to the Confederacy, Wolfall,"
interposed Levi Bedford, his honest eyes flashing fire. "Years ago
Duncan Lyon saved you from a long term in prison, and this is how you
reward his brother and his nephews."
"Don't preach, Bedford, I ain't ust to hearin' on it. Times is changed,
an' if the Lyonses is gwine to take a stand ag'in the best interests o'
this State, why they hev got to take the consequences, thet's all."
"Kentucky has declared for the Union and we are on the right side," said
Deck. "Let us come to an understanding of the situation. What have you
done with my mother and my two sisters?"
"I reckon Leftenant Denny has 'em safe, sonny. Them's nice clothes,
sonny, but a gray suit would look a heap sight better."
"Are they still at the mansion?"
"They air onless the leftenant has took 'em away."
"What do you propose to do here?"
"Enjoy ourselves, sonny."
"Which means that you are going to confiscate all our stores and steal
our valuables."
"As you please, sonny. If yer come only to abuse such gents as we air,
better be gittin' back, sonny," and now the Kentucky guerilla tapped
his horse pistol significantly.
"How many are there of you?" went on Deck, hardly able to resist keeping
his hands from the ruffian.
"Twict as many as half, sonny. Is that all ye want ter know?"
"I see you are not inclined to meet me fairly," continued Deck, sternly.
"I order you to leave this place at once."
"Ain't obeyin' orders jest now, sonny."
"Very well; then you and your comrades in this raid must take the
consequences if you are captured. Moreover, my men and I will shoot you
down like dogs if we get the chance," and Deck turned back, followed by
Levi.
"Thet shootin' won't be all one-sided!" called the guerilla after the
pair, and disappeared into the barn.
When the major and the overseer returned to Fort Bedford, Artie wished
to know immediately what had been accomplished.
"Nothing," answered Deck, his face clouded in perplexing thoughts. He
was almost "stumped," although he did not care to admit it.
A shout was now heard along the creek, and looking from the fort those
within saw five colored men standing at the clearing. They were the
slaves that had followed the first detachment to Lyndhall. With the
colored men were three whites, farmers living in the vicinity who had
called at Lyndhall on business and who had been persuaded by Margie and
Kate to join in the defence of Riverlawn.
"Eight more guns," said Artie. "That gives us sixteen all told. Hang me,
if I'm not in for making a rush!"
Deck's face began to brighten. "Levi, how many men do you think are at
the barn?"
"I saw four looking from behind the doors," answered the overseer.
"Those with Wolfall made five. I don't believe there were any more."
"Then I'll tell you what I'll do," went on the young commander. "As
secretly as I can, I'll recross the creek and join the men in the
clearing. I'll bring them around to the meadow by the road, and along
the berry bushes at the other side of the lawn. There will be nine of
us, and as soon as we are in a position to attack the barn, I'll fire
two shots in quick succession. Then you must make a demonstration
against the house. But be careful that it doesn't cost you any lives."
Both Levi and Artie were quick-witted enough to see the advantage of
Deck's plan and readily agreed to it. Without the loss of a moment the
major left the fort, crawling on his hands and knees through the grass
to the creek.
Here the canoe and the raft were found as they had been left. Detaching
the boat from the logs, he leaped in, and crouching low, sculled for the
opposite shore with all speed. He was taking a big risk and knew it, and
expected every instant to receive a shot from the enemy.
But none came, thanks to Levi, who, calculating the time he would be
thus exposed, ran to the opening of the fort and called on several to do
the same. As no good chance for an aim was given, the guerillas did not
open with their guns, but they kept their eyes on the fort, and the
creek was for the time being neglected.
On reaching the edge of the clearing, Deck did not lose a moment, but
hurried the slaves and the white men back to the road and to the bushes
lining the upper side. As they marched along on the double quick he
explained the situation to Ralph Bowman, Sandran Dowleigh, and Carson
Lee, the three farmers, all natives of the county, and all Union men to
the core.
"They ought to be wiped out," said Bowman, with a vigorous nod of his
head. "I know Wolfall and Denny well, and a rope over a tree is the
medicine they need."
"I've got my Long Sam with me," put in Carson Lee, tapping his long
rifle affectionately. "Just let me get one peep at Denny or Wolfall,
thet's all." Lee was a crack shot, and on more than one occasion had
taken the first prize at target-shooting.
It took the best part of a quarter of an hour to reach the meadow Deck
had mentioned. Here there was a slight rise of ground, beyond which
stood the barn. From their position only the top of the structure could
be seen. Crawling Indian fashion to the top of the rise, the major
inspected the situation again. As before, not a soul was in sight.
Before moving forward he had stationed one of the slaves some distance
closer to the mansion. The man was armed with a double-barrelled gun,
and as Deck waved his handkerchief two reports rang out, the signal
agreed upon. Hardly had the echo of the gun died away than Levi, Artie,
and the others emerged from the fort, and began moving around the meadow
toward the front of the house.
The demonstration did just what was expected. Several men appeared at
the mansion windows, to fire in vain at the detachment from the fort,
they keeping pretty well out of range. From the barn poured the five
guerillas counted by Levi, anxious to learn if their services were
needed elsewhere.
By this time Deck's command was at the top of the rise, and the major
called on his men to take careful aim and fire, discharging his pistol
at the same moment. Carson Lee picked out Wolfall and the ruffian
dropped like a log, shot through the head. Two of the others went down,
one hit in the arm and the other in the side. The two remaining stopped
in perplexity, not knowing whether to return to their original shelter
or run for the mansion.
"Charge!" cried Major Deck, rushing for the barn with all the swiftness
of his youthful legs. "Come on, boys; don't let one of them get away!"
And he continued to fire as he advanced, finally succeeding in hitting
one of the remaining pair of guerillas in the calf of the leg, a painful
though not a serious wound. Seeing the turn of affairs, the last
ruffian, also wounded, sped for the mansion as though a legion of demons
were after him. Those who had reloaded gave the fellow half a dozen
shots, but he was not hit again, and tumbled pell-mell up the veranda
steps and through a doorway opened hastily to afford him entrance.
"A first victory and without a single loss," said Deck, as sheltered by
the big barn he began to reload his pistol, while the others also looked
after their weapons.
"Don't kill us!" came in a groan from one of the wounded--the man the
major had hit.
For reply Deck pointed his pistol at the ruffian's head. "You deserve to
die, but I'll let up on you on one condition--tell me exactly how many
men there are in the mansion."
"I don't know, Major. There were twenty-two of us at the start,
including the five we had here. I think three men were posted on the
road and along the creek."
"One man has returned to the house; the others are out of the fight,"
said Deck, turning to Lee. "That leaves exactly fifteen guerillas in the
mansion. We number sixteen."
"That's so; but they are well fortified," interposed Sandran Dowleigh,
who had not gone to war because he was subject to fits, but who,
nevertheless, took a lively interest in military matters. "They will mow
us down like wheat if we dare to make a rush."
"I will consult with Levi Bedford and Artie before we make another move.
Keep your eyes open while I am gone," said the major, and moved off in a
roundabout way for Fort Bedford.
CHAPTER V
TWO FLAGS OF TRUCE
The first battle, if such it might be called, had been fought and won.
Four of the guerillas had been put out of the contest, one forever, and
one had escaped to the mansion. The contest had been entirely one-sided,
for the ruffians had not had time left to them in which to fire so much
as a single charge.
But though the present victory had been gained quickly and with ease,
Deck knew that the work still cut out for himself and his command would
prove much more difficult and dangerous. The guerillas in the mansion
would be on a close watch, and it would go hard with any one imprudent
enough to advance within reasonable shooting distance.
By the time the major had gained the fort those intrusted with the work
of making a demonstration had returned to the shelter of the stone
walls. No injury had been done, and Artie and the overseer had had
their hands full in keeping the slaves from rushing directly for the
mansion regardless of consequences, especially when it was noted that
four men had gone down in the vicinity of the barn.
"Fifteen still left," mused Levi, when Deck had spoken. "We can go them
one better, but--"
"It makes a big difference where the fifteen men are located," said
Artie. "Five might hold the mansion against us--if they were good shots
and wide-awake."
"If only I knew mother and the girls were safe, I would play them a
waiting game," said Deck, taking a long breath. "They'll think we have
sent for reenforcements and will want to make terms, sooner or later."
"We can send off for reenforcements!" cried Artie. "Clinker can rouse
out every Unionist within two miles of here."
"He would not find many," answered Levi. "The majority are off to the
war."
"One thing, it will be dark soon," went on Deck. "We can move up pretty
close then, for there won't be much moonlight."
"But what of mother and the girls in the meantime?" questioned the young
captain.
"I don't believe they will dare harm them," said the overseer. "They
know that if they did, and were caught, every one of 'em would swing for
it. Denny may try to get a bit sweet on Miss Dorcas, but I reckon she
can hold her own. Those guerillas--"
"Hark!" interrupted Deck. "Somebody is screaming for help! It is
Dorcas!"
He rushed to the door of the fort, followed by Levi and Artie. It was
Dorcas, true enough. The girl had just come out on the mansion porch and
was trying to get away from a guerilla who held her.
"That is Gaffy Denny!" ejaculated the major, drawing his pistol once
more. "Hi, you rascal, leave her alone!" and regardless of consequences
he started across the meadow for the lawn fronting the porch.
"Deck, save me!" came in faint tones from Dorcas. "Oh, save me!"
"I will!" was the reply. And Deck increased his speed, bounding over the
meadow trenches with an agility that would have done credit to a
trained athlete. He had barely gained the lawn when Dorcas broke from
Gaffy Denny's grasp and fled down the porch steps toward him. At the
same time Hope appeared, followed by Mrs. Lyon and several guerillas who
had been in the act of transferring the lady prisoners from one room of
the mansion to the other.
The sight of his mother pursued by these ruffians excited Deck to the
highest degree, and without a thought of the danger he continued on his
course until within a hundred feet of the porch. Then he fired at Gaffy
Denny and saw the guerilla clap his left hand over his right shoulder,
showing that he had been struck. Denny had scarcely made the movement
when Levi Bedford fired and the temporary leader of the guerillas
pitched headlong on the grass, not to rise again.
The fall of Denny caused the men behind him to pause, and as they stood
on the porch Artie opened on them and another fellow was slightly
wounded. Then came half a dozen gun and pistol reports, and Deck felt
himself hit across the left side of the neck. The bullet left nothing
more than an ugly scratch, from which the blood flowed freely.
But now the prisoners from the mansion had come up to their would-be
rescuers, and catching sight of the blood, Hope fainted in Artie's arms.
Mrs. Lyon staggered toward Deck, while Levi caught Dorcas by the hand.
"My son, you are wounded," gasped the mother. "Oh, what shall we do?"
"It's not much, mother," answered Deck. "Come, give me your arm and
we'll get back to the fort," and catching hold of his parent he urged
her in the direction of the meadow. At the same time Artie caught up
Hope and followed, with Levi and Dorcas by his side.
The overseer was the only man of the party who was not handicapped, for
the major did not dare let go of his mother for fear she would sink
down. Levi turned quickly, and as the men on the porch prepared to fire,
pulled trigger twice, wounding one additional guerilla.
But now came a volley from the mansion windows, and the overseer was
struck in the arm. A second volley was about to follow, when a yell
arose from the meadow and the slaves under Clinker came on, shooting as
well as they could on the run. The windows of the mansion, now wide
open, received considerable attention, and two guerillas were noted to
fall back with yells of either fright or pain.
Deck got one more chance to fire, and then had to turn all of his
attention to his mother, who was so out of breath she could no longer
move. "My brave boy, save yourself!" she gasped. "Save yourself! And
save Hope and Dorcas!"
"I won't leave you, mother dear," he returned tenderly, and picked her
up despite her protests. He was soon following Artie to the fort, with
Dorcas running by his side, while Levi remained behind to take command
of the slaves and cover the retreat. From around the back of the meadow
came those left by the major at the barn, thinking a regular attack on
the mansion had been made.
Mrs. Noah Lyon was no light load, and when Deck gained the shelter of
the fort he was ready to drop with his burden. Finding the most
comfortable seat the place afforded, he deposited his precious load upon
it and fanned her with his soldier cap. Hope was just reviving and was
soon able to take care of herself.
"Oh, how thankful I am we have escaped from those ruffians!" cried
Dorcas, almost ready to cry in her excitement. Then she knelt down in
front of her aunt--that aunt who had for years been a mother to her.
Hope joined the group, and tears flowed down every feminine cheek.
"Keep watch here, Artie!" called out Deck, when he saw that all was well
for the time being, and as the young captain nodded, the major leaped
out into the open once more. The battle between those in the mansion and
those on the edge of the lawn was waxing hot, and he felt that he was
needed.
A great load was lifted from his mind, now he knew his mother and the
girls were safe, and he felt that he could endure almost anything.
Taking a short cut by leaping over a ditch some ten feet wide, he came
up in front of Carson Lee and the others from the barn. Lee had already
been firing, at long range, and the man subject to fits declared he had
dropped one guerilla stationed at an attic window.
"It is best that we divide our forces," said Deck. "Levi can take care
of those under him. We will take the opposite side of the house. There
are two magnolias over there--just the spot for such a sharpshooter as
you, Lee."
"Co-rect, lead on and I'll follow," answered Carson Lee, with a grin,
for nothing pleased him more than to have his marksmanship praised. Soon
the entire party was making another detour, while Levi's men fell back
gradually to a safe position in a dry trench near the centre of the
meadow--a trench begun in the spring but never connected with the creek.
When the major's party reached the magnolias, Lee and another of the
farmers climbed into the branches, taking care, however, to keep the
main trunks of the trees between themselves and the mansion. The others
collected underneath, also, on the sheltered sides.
"Levi and the niggers have fallen back to a ditch in the meadow,"
announced Lee, a minute later. "All the guerillas have gone into the
house."
"An' there ain't a head to be seen at the winders," finished Dowleigh,
the other man in the tree. "Reckon they have gone in fer a parley among
themselves."
"We have them where the hair is good and long now," said Deck, smiling.
"Not one of them can leave the house without being seen."
"How about to-night, Major?" laughed Bowman.
"As soon as it gets dark we can draw closer, and throw a guard
completely around the place. But I imagine we'll hear from them before
that--now the ladies have escaped."
"How so?" asked Bowman, with interest.
"As long as they held the ladies they thought they could make terms when
they pleased. Now, the case is different, and, in my opinion, they will
try to make terms before we have a chance to send for aid with which to
wipe them out, as the saying goes."
"Don't ye make no terms," burst in Carson Lee. "They don't deserve 'em."
"We'll see what they have to say, if they do come out," concluded the
major.
The best part of half an hour passed, and during that time everybody
placed his weapon in proper fighting trim again. Lee took one shot at a
face which appeared at a bedroom window and received a shot in return,
but neither took effect. Evidently the guerillas were on the alert.
"I told you so!" Deck felt like saying, when the side door of the
mansion opened and a man waved a white towel toward them. But the major
remained silent, and the man advanced cautiously to the edge of the
veranda. Then the young commander waved his handkerchief in return, and
marched up the lawn to interview the ruffian with the flag of truce.
The fellow was an ugly looking customer, over six feet tall, thin, and
with a face horribly pox-marked. He came swaggering up to within five
yards of Deck and halted.
"Say, don't yer think this game has been played long enough?" he grunted
rather than asked.
"Entirely too long," answered Deck, briefly. He had not yet forgotten
the manner in which he had been addressed at the barn.
"We-uns is ready ter make terms if yer don't ask the earth," continued
the tall guerilla, swinging his lanky arms into a fold. "Wot do yer say
to it?"
"I think you had better make terms."
"Oh, we ain't so terribully skeered, Major. But makin' terms might suit
better all around, thet's all."
"Well, what do you propose?"
"This. You-uns let us withdraw on our hosses to the road an' give us
half a mile start, an' we-uns will leave everything in the house jest as
we found it."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then we'll burn the hull shebang to the ground and take wot comes
arfterward," exclaimed the guerilla, vehemently, and added an expression
I would not care to transcribe to these pages.
"Do you know what will come?"
"A fight most likely," and the guerilla shrugged his bony shoulders.
"Yes, and a heavy one, if our reenforcements arrive in time. And as
commander here I'll promise you that if you harm the house or its
contents in the least, every man captured shall be hung to yonder trees
as an incendiary and thief."
"Ye can't do thet--not to Confed'rit sodgers, Major."
"I don't recognize you as Confederates. You are simply outlaws."
"'Tain't so; we--" The guerilla paused and began to think of the
instructions which had been given him. "Wot kind o' terms air you
calkerlatin' ter make, Major?" he asked, in a milder tone.
"I want all in the house to surrender, and if you do I'll simply hand
you over to the county authorities and they can do with you as they
think best. But each of you must swear to leave Riverlawn alone in the
future."
"The boys won't agree on thet--I know they won't."
"They can do as they please; you have my terms," returned Deck, curtly.
"Yer won't treat us as simple prisoners o' war?"
"No; for such you are not. Neither your captain nor your lieutenant
holds a commission signed by the Confederate authorities."
The guerilla paused as if to say more. Then tossing his shaggy head he
walked back to the mansion, while Deck joined his command at the
magnolias.
"Bowman, you can do a big thing for me if you will," he said, calling
the farmer aside, and he explained a little ruse which had just popped
into his head. The scheme made Bowman laugh heartily, and he at once
departed to carry it out, taking one of the negroes with him.
It was just growing dusk when the farmer reached the vicinity of the
creek bridge. Calling on Woolly, the negro, to march by his side, he
quickly crossed the roadway, in plain sight of the mansion. He passed
from one thicket to another, and as soon as he was out of sight turned
back and went through the same performance again. This he repeated a
score of times, sometimes going alone and again with Woolly. This
accomplished, he told the negro to move down the creek and show himself
at half a dozen different places just as quickly as the act could be
performed, he at the same time doing as much in the opposite direction.
Sometimes the pair showed themselves with their coats, sometimes
without, and they knocked their head coverings into all sorts of shapes.
The ruse succeeded admirably, for even Levi, at the fort, was led to
believe a dozen or more armed men had just arrived, and he was for a
while considerably worried, thinking they might possibly be
reenforcements for the enemy. Bowman's appearance opposite Fort Bedford
cleared up the matter, and the farmer came over to give the overseer the
particulars, thereby risking a shot which, fortunately, proved harmless.
"It certainly ought to bring them to terms," said Levi. "I'll wager they
will be out with another flag in less than a quarter of an hour."
Had a bet been made the overseer would have won by five minutes, for
exactly ten minutes later another flag of truce was shown, and a second
messenger sallied forth to make terms with Major Deck.
CHAPTER VI
A MISSING DOCUMENT OF IMPORTANCE
Major Dexter Lyon was on the lookout and saw the second flag of truce as
quickly as any one. At the same time Carson Lee, still in the top of the
magnolia, announced that "another rag" was "out for an airin'."
"You want ter go slow," he added. "They may be gittin' desperate an' up
to some o' their mean tricks."
Promising to use all caution, Deck advanced to meet the new messenger.
He proved to be a mild sort of a guerilla and was evidently extremely
nervous.
"I came out to arrange terms with you," he said, in such a low voice
that Deck could hardly hear him.
"Are you ready to surrender?"
"We are--on certain terms."
"I gave your other messenger my terms. I haven't any others to make."
"The boys is divided as to wot to do. About half of 'em is willing to
give themselves up unconditionally, the other half want to be treated as
prisoners of war."
"I will not treat any as prisoners of war--I said that before," answered
Deck, firmly. "Are you willing to give yourself up unconditionally?"
"Yes."
"Then you had best do so without delay--and so had the others who think
as you do. We will give you just ten minutes in which to make up your
minds," went on Deck, feeling he had the enemy, "on the run," and
determined to make the best of his chances.
"So them reenforcements have arrived, eh?" said the messenger, and now
his voice actually trembled. "Just hold on ten minutes, Major, and I'll
be back," and he almost ran for the house.
The man left the front door wide open, and Lee, from his superior
position, announced that a lively confab was in progress within. In less
than five minutes the messenger marched forth, followed by five of his
comrades, all trailing their guns.
"Five on 'em goin' to give up," announced Lee, when a shot was fired
from the mansion, and one of the guerillas was seen to throw up his arms
and fall headlong. He had been shot through the neck, and expired almost
instantly. The others set out on a run for the magnolias, fearful that
their former companions in arms would murder them likewise for
deserting. A dozen reports from both sides followed, but no further
damage was done.
As soon as the four guerillas reached Deck's command they were disarmed,
and a guard of two slaves conducted them to a distance, keeping a close
watch upon them. Another negro was sent by a circuitous route to the
fort, to tell the defenders there what had occurred.
Deck now felt certain that those remaining in the mansion would soon
make a dash for safety, satisfied that every moment's delay increased
their peril, and preferring to run the risk of being shot than the
certainty of being hung if captured. At the most there could not be over
eight guerillas in a condition to fight, and the major felt assured his
forces could readily take care of them.
The dash came just after Deck's message had been delivered to Levi and
Artie. Almost simultaneously all the lower doors of the mansion were
thrown open and seven guerillas darted out, to scatter in as many
different directions, three going off toward the meadow behind the
barns, one in the neighborhood of the negroes' huts, and the others
taking to the creek and the bridge over it. In less than two minutes
each ruffian was at least a hundred yards from the nearest of his
companions.
In this emergency there was but one thing to do, and that was to divide
up the detachments at the magnolias and at the fort. This was done by
Deck on one side and Artie on the other, and away went the major and
Faraway, the slave, after the guerilla who was making for the bridge,
while every other ruffian was being pursued in a similar fashion by the
remaining Unionists.
It had grown darker rapidly, and it was with difficulty that the major
kept his man in sight, especially after the bushes near the bridge were
reached. There was also a danger of a shot, but none came just then.
"He's gone!" suddenly burst out Faraway, when the bridge was less than a
hundred feet away. "De earth hab swallowed him up!"
"He went under the bridge," answered Deck, halting. "Go slow, for he'll
shoot us if he can."
After this the advance was made with great caution, until the young
commander had gained the pile of stones upon which rested one end of the
wooden structure. Here the great tree growing by the bridge bench cast a
deep shade all around, and he had to strain his eyes to see at all.
Crack! It was the report of a pistol and it came from less than fifty
feet away. As the report died away Deck was seen to throw up his arms
and drop. At once an exultant chuckle proceeded from the guerilla's
lips, and heedless of the negro, he darted out of his hiding-place and
ran for the creek road.
"Oh, Mars'r Deck!" cried Faraway, in dismay, when he started back
dumfounded, for the young major had suddenly arisen to a kneeling
position, taken careful aim and fired. The bullet sped true to its mark,
and the guerilla went down, shot through the right knee.
"Hang yer cursed Yankee trick!" he groaned, as Deck came up to him,
totally uninjured from the shot aimed at him a minute previously. Lying
as he was, he attempted to fire again, but the major kicked the pistol
from his grasp and Faraway pounced upon him and pinned him to the
ground.
"Any kind of a trick would be justifiable in capturing such a rascal as
you," said Deck, as he directed Faraway to disarm the prisoner. This
done, and making sure that the fellow could not walk away, they propped
him up on the creek bridge and left him.
Returning to the vicinity of the mansion, Deck found that one other
guerilla had been captured by Artie and Clinker, and that white men and
negroes were scattered in all directions endeavoring to round up the
remainder. The search for the fleeing ones was kept up until midnight,
and two others were wounded and taken into custody.
All the prisoners were either marched or carried to Fort Bedford, and
here the wounded ones were cared for as tenderly as though they were
friends instead of enemies. The dead were laid out for burial, unless
the bodies should be claimed by relatives or friends.
Deck had bound a silk handkerchief around his neck, which felt stiff
where the bullet had scratched it. Artie had been hurt, too, but the
wound was of small consequence. The Unionists received even greater care
than the guerillas.
It was exactly two o'clock in the morning when Deck came into the
mansion thoroughly worn out by what he had passed through. Mrs. Lyon had
ordered Diana (not Dinah, if you please) to prepare the best meal
Riverlawn could afford, and while the family and the other whites sat
down in the dining room, the negroes made themselves comfortable in the
spacious kitchen. In the meantime the prisoners at the fort were kept
under close guard and a messenger was despatched to notify the county
authorities of what had taken place.
The mansion had been turned topsy-turvy, and a few articles of
bric-a-brac had been smashed, but otherwise the loss did not seem to be
of much consequence outside of the fact that two dozen silver spoons and
a gold butter dish were missing, also some wine and whiskey put down in
the cellar by Duncan Lyon and which the family of Noah had never
touched.
"I do not mind the liquor, but I do mind the loss of my mother's
spoons," said Mrs. Noah. "However, I am glad matters are no worse."
"I was afraid they would break open father's safe," said Deck, referring
to the strong box in the library, in which the colonel was wont to keep
his cash and his private papers. "I was much relieved to see it still
locked up."
While Deck had been speaking Levi came in, and now he turned to Mrs.
Lyon. "That safe--I left it open for you," he cried hurriedly. "Did
you--"
"I left it open," gasped Mrs. Lyon, falling back in her chair. "I forgot
all about it until just now--the guerillas scared me so when they
marched in. If they--"
"The safe is shut--but still--" began Deck, and arising hastily he
hurried to the library, with Levi, Artie, and the women folks at his
heels. The door refused to budge and Levi worked the combination, a new
device Noah Lyon had had put on the door just before leaving home for
the seat of war.
When the strong box came open a mass of private papers and account-books
fell out upon the carpeted floor, and it was easy to surmise that the
guerillas had looted the safe of all that could be made valuable to
them. Levi declared three hundred dollars in gold gone, also two hundred
in United States paper money, besides a small box of jewellery, the most
valuable articles in which had been a diamond ring and a diamond stud
Duncan Lyon had worn during his life, and of which no disposition had
ever been made.
"We are five hundred dollars out by this raid," said Artie, while Mrs.
Lyon shook her head sadly. "We had better question the prisoners about
this."
He went off to do so, accompanied by Levi. While they were gone Deck
proceeded to arrange the scattered books and papers and restore them to
their original resting places.
"Hullo!" he ejaculated, as he picked up an empty envelope. It was
marked! "Not to be opened till five years from the date of my death.
Duncan Lyon."
"The secret envelope uncle left to father!" cried out Hope. "Oh, Deck,
where are the contents?"
"That is what I should like to know," responded her brother, kneeling
down with a hand lamp, the better to see. A large batch of papers were
sorted with great care, but nothing which might have belonged in the
envelope was unearthed.
"This is worse than the loss of the money or the spoons," sobbed Mrs.
Lyon, bursting into tears. "Your father has always been very careful of
that secret communication, which he thought related to your Uncle
Duncan's slaves. I am sure he will be much put out when he finds the
contents of the envelope gone."
Mrs. Lyon's tears set the girls to crying, and it took some time for
Deck to quiet the three. In the meanwhile he had all the female colored
help in the mansion search for the missing paper. These people brought
him a dozen or more sheets from out-of-the-way corners, but all proved
valueless, and at length Deck strode down to the fort.
The prisoners had been searched, but nothing had been found on them of
value. Each man was closely questioned, and the timid guerilla who had
carried the second flag of truce that afternoon admitted that he had
seen a certain fellow known as Totterly at the safe and had seen the
guerilla tear open an envelope, look over its contents and then cram a
paper in his coat pocket. Totterly had also taken a chamois bag--the bag
which contained the three hundred dollars in gold. Who had taken the
paper money was not known to the timid prisoner, nor did he know
anything about the spoons.
"I didn't want to jine them sodgers," he whined. "Gaffy Denny talked me
into it. Wish I had a-stayed on my dad's plantation in Logan County."
"Yes, you would have been much better off," answered Deck, briefly.
The discovery of the loss sustained put a damper on the supper, and
several of Diana's best dishes were hardly touched. But nothing could
just then be done, and after Mrs. Lyon and the girls had told how they
had been surprised by Gaffy Denny and his men and locked up in the
storeroom off of the dining apartment, each of the party retired to
catch a few hours of sleep. It is safe to say the lady of the mansion
and the girls hardly closed their eyes, but Deck and Artie were growing
used to excitement and had slumbered in the very midst of a battlefield,
and they rested soundly.
On the day following, several of the county authorities put into
appearance, and the prisoners were taken away to Bowling Green, some to
the prison, and the wounded ones to a hospital. A vigorous search was
instituted for Totterly, but nothing was learned about him further than
that he had confiscated a horse at a little settlement known as
Culver's, and had been seen riding with all speed directly south for the
Tennessee State line.
Deck and Artie accompanied the prisoners to the county seat, and on
returning to Riverlawn in the afternoon an hour's call was made at
Lyndhall--a space of time all too short for the major, for Kate
Belthorpe wished to know all about the affair at the mansion, and he was
impatient to ask her about herself. Artie, knowing a thing or two or
imagining he did, very considerately drew Margie Belthorpe to listen to
what he might have to relate, so the affectionate pair were left alone
part of the time, something which Deck very much appreciated, and to
which pretty Kate did not at all object. The girl shuddered when he was
forced to admit that he had been scratched on the neck by a bullet, and
flinging her arms about his shoulders begged him to be more prudent in
the future, and this he promised--for her sake, as he said in a whisper,
and the compact was sealed with a kiss which if not exactly brotherly or
sisterly was fully as affectionate.
"I suppose you proposed, didn't you?" said Artie, when he and Deck were
galloping home. "I gave you the best chance in the world."
"I--I--don't be foolish, Artie," returned the young major, and blushed.
"No," he went on, after a pause, "I didn't--but--I reckon it's all
right--at least I hope it is;" and Artie clapped him on the back
heartily and said he was positive it was all right, and they shook
hands. After that the cousins were more brotherly than ever before.
CHAPTER VII
IN WHICH THE ENEMY'S SUPPLIES ARE CONFISCATED
"Deck, what is that glittering over there?" cried Artie, as they were
crossing the creek bridge. "I declare, it's one of mother's spoons!"
"You're right, Artie," answered the major, leaping to the ground. "And
here is another. That rascal I wounded must have thrown them away after
I left him on the bridge bench."
Artie dismounted also, and the pair began a rigorous search for the
balance of the missing silverware. Four additional spoons were brought
to light, all having lain within a distance of two yards of each other.
"That's all," said Artie, after looking around for quarter of an hour
without finding any more. "More than likely several of the guerillas
divided the tableware between them."
Mrs. Lyon was much pleased over the recovery of even a part of the
stolen property, and a hunt was immediately instituted at the various
spots where the prisoners had been shot down or captured. Before night a
dozen and a half spoons were in, also the gold butter dish. The other
spoons were never found, although long after it was learned that the
thief had thrown them into the creek.
Immediately after learning what was to be ascertained concerning
Totterly, Levi had gone off with General and Clinker to run the men
down, were such a thing possible. The overseer was gone two days and a
night, and came back looking worn and haggard.
"I couldn't catch him, try my best," he said. "He has escaped into
Tennessee, and I doubt very much if any of us ever lay eyes on him
again."
From one of the prisoners they had received a very good description of
the guerilla, who was said to be tall, with a marked stoop to his left
shoulder, and with a long nose which did not point directly ahead, but
somewhat to the right. He was said to be a well-educated man, inclined
to drink, and was put down as using "school English."
"We shall never see or hear of him again," sighed Mrs. Lyon. "The money
and that precious paper are gone forever."
"I don't see why he took the paper," said Artie. "I don't believe it is
of any value excepting to father."
"We ought to write to father at once," said Hope, who, though younger
than any present, took a deep interest in what had occurred. "If the
paper concerned the slaves, what will he do if it is not found?"
"That's the conundrum, Hope," answered her big brother. "I'll write
to-night, and father will get the letter inside of forty-eight hours, I
think."
The major and the captain had expected to have a right royal time at
home while on their furlough; but the attack on Riverlawn had upset all
of their calculations. Nevertheless, they were warmly welcomed by those
at the plantation, and Kate Belthorpe made Deck especially happy by
coming over with her sister to spend a whole day at the mansion.
The furlough of the major and the captain was for ten days, and before
the time was up a letter came from Colonel Lyon, stating that he had
received the news of the attack on Riverlawn even before Deck's
communication was handed to him. The loss of the private document
intrusted to him by his dead brother worried him greatly, but he
presumed everything possible was being done to recover it, so he would
not risk leaving his command to take a hand personally.
"General Rosecrans is almost certain the enemy is up to some movement,"
he added. "I was talking to Colonel Minty only yesterday, and he thinks
we shall have work cut out for us inside of a week. Unless you can
accomplish something at home, you and Artie had better return to your
positions at the front."
The note had evidently been written in a hurry, for no mention was made
of the lost money, the colonel evidently valuing that at less than the
stolen paper. The communication produced a profound impression on Deck
and Artie, and after talking it over, both decided to leave for their
regiment on the following morning. Levi urged them to do this, and
promised to guard more carefully than ever against any possible future
attack at Riverlawn.
Early in the year 1863 several changes were made in the Army of the
Cumberland, and one of these was to transfer Fort Henry and Fort
Donelson from Grant to Rosecrans, giving the latter the entire control
of the Cumberland River. In the meantime, and during the several months
to follow, the cavalry of the Union forces was recruited as much as
possible, and many companies of infantry were placed on horseback, for
Rosecrans had discovered that little or nothing could be done against
the enemy's raiders by foot soldiers, no matter how daring or
long-winded on the double-quick the latter might be.
Toward the end of January, General Bragg, somewhat recovered from the
shock of the conflict at Murfreesboro, thought it about time to make
another demonstration against the army of the North, and he accordingly
directed General Wheeler to make an attack against Fort Donelson, so
gallantly taken by the forces under Grant nearly a year previous.
Wheeler directed Forrest to move his brigade with a battery of four
guns along the river road to the neighborhood of Dover, while he with
Wharton's command took a road to the left.
Several trusted scouts reported this movement to Rosecrans without
delay, and the general immediately ordered Davis to take his division
and two brigades of cavalry under Colonel Minty down the Versailles road
and endeavor to take Wheeler in the rear, while Steedman was directed to
watch the Confederate general's movements by way of Triune.
As the work of the Riverlawn Cavalry was well known, Colonel Lyon was
pressed into the services of the cavalry moving toward Fort Donelson
without, however, Captain Batterson's battery being attached, as
heretofore. The brigades of cavalry were directed to move by way of the
Unionville and Rover roads, the infantry going direct to Eaglesville.
The major and the captain arrived in camp just as the men were striking
their tents. They were warmly received by Major Belthorpe, who wanted to
know the news from home, and by Captain Gadbury, who was likewise
anxious to hear from Lyndhall and especially from Margie. Both young
men, however, lost no time in reporting to their father.
"It's a bad business, Dexter," said the colonel, when the loss of the
secret letter was alluded to. "I must say I am treed, as the bear said
to Davy Crockett."
"Don't you think the letter referred to the slaves, father?" said the
major. "I always thought it did."
"I did think so, because I was particularly cautioned by Brother Duncan
not to dispose of any of the slaves under any circumstances. They
originally numbered fifty-one, but three have died, leaving forty-eight,
as perhaps you know."
"Perhaps they were to be given their freedom," said Artie. "If that is
so, President Lincoln's proclamation has forestalled Uncle Duncan's
design."
At this the colonel smiled. "Almost true, Artie, but not quite," he said
slowly. "If we lived in a rebellious State the proclamation would act as
you say, but Kentucky, being still in the Union, is not affected by that
proclamation, strange as the statement may seem."
"Creation! but I reckon you're right, father!" almost shouted Major
Deck. "I never looked at it in that light before. We can hold slaves
even if the folks living below the Mason and Dixon's line can't."
Colonel Lyon turned his eyes fully on the young commander, and studied
that resolute face for several seconds in silence. From his parent's
manner Deck knew something important was coming.
"My son, would you care to hold our colored people as slaves if all the
other colored people in these United States were set at liberty? I say
these United States, for I pray God that this conflict will speedily
come to an end and that we shall remain an undivided Union."
"No; I say let them be free! Let us hire them to work for us," answered
the major, promptly.
"Yes; give them their liberty," echoed Artie. "I never believed in
slavery when we lived in New Hampshire, and I haven't got used to it
yet. It isn't a Christian-like institution."
"My boys, I am glad you speak my thoughts," said Colonel Lyon, and
grasped each by the hand. "Yes, the slaves shall be free; I settled
that in my mind as soon as I read our President's proclamation. I have
already begun a letter of instructions to Levi Bedford on the subject."
At this juncture Colonel Lyon was called away to confer with the officer
in command of the division to which the Riverlawns had been assigned,
and Deck and Artie hurried to their respective headquarters, the one to
assume command of his company and the other his battalion.
"Major, you are looking as fine as fine can be!" exclaimed Captain Life
Knox, of the seventh company, as he came up, saluted Deck, and then gave
a hearty shake to the proffered hand. "Your furlough has evidently
agreed with you."
"It would have agreed with me if it hadn't been for the trouble we had
at Riverlawn."
"I heard something of that, but I'd like to listen to the particulars,"
continued Life.
They were readily given. When the tall Kentuckian heard Totterly's name
mentioned his face grew dark.
"I know the skunk!" he cried. "He hails from the western part of the
State and once cheated me in a hoss trade. So he is the man? Very well,
we'll keep our eyes open for him."
Major Truman was also at hand, an eager listener to what was said. The
former squire of Barcreek shook his head dubiously. "I was hoping our
neighborhood would miss being raided after that last trouble," he said.
"But, being on the border of this conflict, I dare say we shall suffer
in this fashion as long as the war lasts."
In less than two hours after this the Riverlawn Cavalry was on the
march, Deck at the head of the first battalion, with Artie as commander
of his fourth company, and Colonel Lyon in charge of the whole. Major
Batterson of the battery was sorry to be left behind, but wished "the
boys" the best of luck.
"Don't let the enemy take Fort Donelson," he said. "Grant had too much
of a job taking it from Buckner."
The cavalry forces under Minty had been divided, one taking the road
through Unionville and the other that through Rover. The weather was
cold and threatened a storm, yet the Riverlawns made good progress over
the semi-frozen and rough highway.
The most worried man in the column was Quartermaster Hickman. For
several weeks the troops had been living on half rations, for the
government could get no supplies through, owing to the wrecking of the
railroad. The country for miles around had been so thoroughly foraged
that absolutely nothing was left that was worth picking up.
"It's easy enough to talk about providing something," grumbled the
quartermaster, while riding at ease beside Deck. "I'd turn the shirt on
my back into a peck of potatoes if I could, but the thing can't be
done--and there you are. I've lived on nothing but hardtack and a couple
of potatoes for two days,--and your father has done the same,--and yet
some of the boys kick."
"It's hard lines, truly," answered Deck, soberly. "But we shall have to
make the best of it, and that is all there is to it. When we halt for
dinner, I'll make my battalion a little speech on the subject."
"I wish you would, for the third company is the hardest kicker of the
lot," grumbled Hickman, and rode off, trying to solve in his mind how
he was going to make six boxes of hardtack, two barrels of potatoes, and
one box of beans last nearly a thousand men two days or more. "I'll just
have to swell out them beans, that's all," he said. "And all hands will
have to play Yankees and eat 'em," he added, remembering that some of
the Kentuckians had turned up their noses at this particularly New
England dish.
When the halt came Major Deck made his promised speech. "Our
quartermaster is doing his best," he said, "and officers are faring no
better than the men. If we are badly off, the enemy is worse, so let us
leave the growling to them. I feel certain our government will not
forget us, and that supplies will soon be coming through in abundance."
For a moment there was a silence. "We didn't mean anything, Major," came
from a private of the second company. "The quartermaster is all right.
Three cheers for him!" The cheers were given with a will; and then
Hickman felt much better.
Life Knox and several others had gone off on a scout for "extras." They
had brought down two rabbits when they ran across a house set in a
grove of untrimmed trees. The front door was open on a crack, and at the
crack an elderly man was stationed with a shot-gun.
"Keep off! keep off!" cried the man as he stepped onto the porch. "I
don't want any soldiers around here."
"So it would seem," answered the tall Kentuckian, dryly. "Who are you?"
"Eh?" queried the man, who was a bit deaf.
"Stand still and tell us who you are."
"That's my business. You clear out!"
"Rather guess it's our business just now," laughed another of the
cavalrymen.
"A man's house is his castle, and I want you to leave me," stormed the
man with the shot-gun. "You are nothing but Yankees!"
"That is true," returned Life. "What have you in your house?"
"Eh?"
"Most awfully deaf, he is," grunted another of the party. "Have you got
many provisions on hand?" he added, in a louder key.
"Eh?" and the man with the shot-gun leaned forward. "Did you say
provisions?"
"Yes; have you any?" joined in Life.
"Enough for myself. Ain't got none for you--I can tell you that!"
"Reckon you have got something for us," grinned the tall Kentuckian.
Another of the party, Sandy Lyon, had, in the meantime, slipped behind
the house. He now appeared at the edge of the porch and suddenly leaped
upon the elderly man.
Utterly off his guard, for he had not heard Sandy approaching, the deaf
man proved an easy victim, and in a twinkle his gun was taken from him.
"That was a good move, Sandy," said Life. "Now sit down and behave
yourself, sir," he added, to the man, whose name was Gessel, and forced
the deaf one to a seat on the porch.
Having overcome the only inhabitant of the house, the cavalrymen made an
inspection of the premises and found over a score of boxes and barrels,
filled with provisions intended for a Confederate force encamped in the
vicinity of Rover.
Orders were at once sent to the quartermaster to take possession of the
prize, and Colonel Lyon was notified of the Confederate detachment
mentioned.
Realizing that the matter would brook of no delay, a consultation with
the general of the command was held, and this resulted in Deck being
sent off with his battalion to locate the Confederates, if possible, and
engage them.
CHAPTER VIII
THE ENGAGEMENT NEAR SPRING HILL
The course of the first battalion of the Riverlawn Cavalry was along a
path scarcely wide enough for four horsemen to ride abreast. It was
through a thicket of dwarf trees, the limbs of which took off many a hat
and scratched hands and faces. At several points the riders came to
hollows, filled with icy water, and here detours had to be made, for
fear the animals might become stuck in the stiff soil beneath.
As was his usual habit, Deck rode at the head of his command, with
Captain Abbey, of the first company, beside him. Several scouts had been
sent out and with them had gone Artie Lyon, by special permission of the
major.
The scouts soon found the road making a broad sweep to the south, and
presently came to a point where there was a clearing in the woods and a
brook. Here they stopped their horses for a drink, and Artie pointed out
some fresh tracks leading up the watercourse. The tracks were of men as
well as horses.
"Let us investigate those tracks," he said to Lieutenant Fronklyn, who
was one of the party. "I think they are about what we are looking for."
"I wouldn't be surprised," answered Fronklyn, who, as old readers know,
had frequently been on the scout with Deck, and he knew a thing or two
about the business. "Do we go afoot, Captain?"
"I think we had better."
The horses were tethered in the brush, and the pair advanced along the
brook with caution. Soon the trail led to the westward, and here they
found themselves confronted by a series of rocks, overgrown by moss and
covered with dead leaves. Fronklyn stopped and scratched his head.
"Are we stumped?" questioned Artie. He got down on his knees and
commenced to examine the moss. "I reckon we can follow the trail in
spite of the rocks. Come ahead," and again they advanced.
The rocks ran up and then down. At the other side was another clearing,
and not far away the regular road to Rover.
"Halt!" whispered Artie, catching his companion by the arm. "There they
are, as sure as guns!" and he pointed to their left.
The young captain was right. Encamped on the edge of the clearing, and
not over two hundred yards from the Rover road, was a company of
Confederate cavalry. The men were taking it easy, smoking and playing
cards. Not even a picket appeared in their vicinity.
"Let us count them," whispered Artie, and began the task, while Fronklyn
did the same. They settled on forty-three men, not counting several who
could be heard talking, but who were out of sight.
"Half a hundred," murmured the young captain. "If we are smart we ought
to be able to bag the lot. Come on back, just as quickly as we can make
it;" and he caught Fronklyn by the arm a second time.
When the brook was again reached, the other scouts were called in, and
all lost no time in reporting to Deck. The major listened to what Artie
and Fronklyn had to say with interest, and nodded when Artie spoke of
bagging the lot.
"You are right," he said, and sent for Captains Abbey, Blenks, and
Richland of the other companies.
It was soon arranged that the first and second companies should proceed
along the regular road until the vicinity of the Confederate camp was
reached. In the meantime the third and fourth companies under Captain
Richland were to take to the trail Artie had discovered, thus covering
the enemy's rear.
"As soon as we reach our position, I will send out Lieutenant Fronklyn
to ascertain your arrival," said the major. "Then the four companies
will take their positions north, west, east, and south as they rank. The
enemy will thus be completely surrounded, and as our men will be
protected by the woods, I do not see how they can do anything but
surrender, unless they submit themselves to great slaughter."
"But supposing they make a break?" was the question put by Captain
Richland.
"If they do, it will depend upon circumstances as to what shall be done,
and I'll send you further orders," answered the major.
The two commands separated, and Deck rode forward at the head of the
first detachment. The approach to the Confederate encampment by the
regular road was considerably longer than by the brook route, but the
latter way was the rougher of the two; so the young commander judged
that both detachments would arrive at their destinations at about the
same time. In this his supposition proved correct.
As before, scouts were sent out, Fronklyn at the head of the first
detachment and Lieutenant Black at the head of the second, each with
three men under him. It was wise that this was done, for the
Confederates had just begun to throw out pickets, having received word
that Rosecrans was sending troops after Wheeler and feeling the boys in
blue must come somewhere in the neighborhood of where they were
stopping. Each advanced guard managed to bag two pickets, silencing them
ere they had a chance to make any outcry.
"Who is in command of your company?" questioned Deck, when one of the
pickets was brought to him.
"Captain Barstow."
"How many men has he?"
"About twice as many as you," answered the Confederate, hoping to scare
the Unionists off.
"Indeed," rejoined the major. "That is all," and the captured one was
led to the rear.
There was a sharp turn in the road some distance from the camp of the
enemy, and here the first detachment rested, while Fronklyn hurried
through the woods to get word from Captain Richland. He found the second
detachment just crossing the rocks, and, waiting until the two companies
were located as ordered, reported the fact to the major.
The engagement was opened by the enemy, who, on finding themselves
confronted in the rear by the two companies at the rocks, began a
scattering fire and retreated toward the Rover road. The second
detachment of the Riverlawns returned the fire with deadly effect, and
four Confederates were either killed or wounded. In their hurry to leave
the exposed camp, the enemy left nearly its whole outfit behind.
But down on the main road matters were still worse for them, for they
almost ran into the first company, while the second company opened upon
their right. Bewildered, they came to a halt, and looked inquiringly at
their captain, while two other men dropped.
"Left wheel, double-quick march!" yelled Captain Barstow. "Load!" And
away they went, loading as they ran. But at the base of the rocks they
came to another halt, for from the trees some distance back glinted
nearly a hundred carbine barrels. They turned again to find more
carbines on the other side.
The first detachment had now come closer, and the Confederates were
completely hemmed in, with hardly a tree to shelter them. In this
position Major Deck called on them to surrender.
"If you don't do it, my troops will cut you to pieces," he added.
The captain of the Confederates wanted to fight, and to gain time
attempted to parley over terms. But Deck would not listen to him; and
five minutes later the company threw down their arms, and the angry
commander was forced to give up his sword.
It was learned that the captured body numbered but thirty-six men, the
others having either been shot down or having left the camp between the
time that Artie and Fronklyn made their discovery and the contest
opened. The wounded were cared for and placed in a farm wagon borrowed
from a planter in the vicinity, and the prisoners were marched along the
Rover road to where the second and third battalions of the Riverlawns
were stationed.
"You did well, Dexter," said the colonel, when he had been informed of
the course of events. "To capture such a force with only the loss of one
man killed and three wounded was remarkable," and he smiled
affectionately.
"I didn't do very much myself," said the major, modestly. "Artie and
Lieutenant Fronklyn found the rebels and I ordered the only thing done
that seemed practicable--to surround them."
"I see you still have your neck tied up. Does it hurt much?"
"A little, but not enough to speak about. Artie's wound was much the
worse of the two."
"You must not be rash. Captain Abbey tells me that you exposed yourself
several times while giving orders."
"I can't remain in the rear, father," pleaded the major. "How would it
look?"
"My first battalion can't afford to lose its major, Dexter. You owe a
duty to your command, as well as to yourself and me;" and here the
conversation dropped.
The larger portion of the cavalry had moved forward toward Rover, and
here another body of Minty's command encountered a small regiment of
Confederates and captured them. To this body of the defeated were added
the force taken by Major Deck.
Following the commands of General Rosecrans, Steedman moved forward by
way of Triune and Nolinsville, and joined Davis's forces at Franklin.
But Wheeler was on the alert, and by pushing forward at his utmost
speed, managed to pass between those in his pursuit. On the third day of
February he reached Dover, and there forced a fight with Colonel
Harding, commanding about six hundred and fifty men of the Eighty-third
Illinois. The latter was well intrenched at the new site of Fort
Donelson, and bravely resisted two savage attacks, then charged over his
works and captured nearly half a hundred of the enemy. In his double
onslaught Wheeler lost five hundred and fifty in killed and wounded,
while the loss to the Union forces was less than a hundred, exclusive
of fifty soldiers who were captured. With broken ranks Wheeler started
on his retreat through Centerville. Davis's command tried their best to
cut him off, and so did a portion of Minty's cavalry, but the
Confederate could not be caught, and he escaped with the remnant of his
troops across Duck River. It may be added here that when Colonel Harding
charged over his breastworks, he was sustained by the fire of several
gunboats on the river, which were bound for Nashville with a number of
transports.
The affair near Rover ended the present series of conflicts so far as
the Riverlawn Cavalry was concerned, and they went into camp once more
and were again joined by Batterson's battery. But the Confederates
continued to be active, and early in March an encounter took place three
miles outside of Spring Hill and another at Thompson's Station. The
Union forces, under Coburn, were outnumbered and compelled to surrender;
but the victory was of little value to the Confederates, since it did
nothing for the advancement of their position.
On the 7th of March General Phil Sheridan moved with his division to
Franklin, where he was joined by troops from Nashville and by Minty's
cavalry. The object was to learn the enemy's true position. Van Dorn,
the rebel leader, was at Spring Hill, and Granger was sent to dislodge
him. This was done with the aid of several other Union troops, and Van
Dorn was pursued as far as Rutherford Creek.
Once more the Riverlawns found themselves in the saddle and posted on a
side road not half a mile from the scene of the initial blows of the
battle. The road was a winding affair, and the several battalions
covered not only the highway, but also the hemp fields on either side.
They were kept waiting for nearly an hour, when a staff officer came
galloping up and informed Colonel Lyon that a portion of the enemy was
cutting through a woods to the northeast.
"You are to cut them off, Colonel Lyon," added the officer. "The general
leaves the details of the movement to yourself."
"How many are coming?" asked the commandant of the Riverlawns.
"Five or six hundred, at least."
Colonel Lyon said no more, but at once directed his regiment to break
into battalions. The first was to move up the road for an eighth of a
mile, the second was to cut directly across the hemp field on the left,
while the third was to follow the first, as a reserve, keeping as well
posted as possible on the movements of Deck's companies.
In less than five minutes Major Belthorpe's battalion was galloping
across the field as fast as the nature of the soil permitted, while Deck
was moving up the highway at equal speed. Soon a patch of timber cut off
the view of the first battalion by the second.
Major Deck now felt it "in his bones" that some sharp fighting was in
store for his men, and in this he was not mistaken. The position
determined upon by the colonel had hardly been gained when the
Confederate detachment, consisting of several companies of cavalry and a
like number of infantry, discovered the battalion in the hemp field, and
opened fire.
Understanding fully Colonel Lyon's scheme, Major Belthorpe now swung
around to the enemy's rear, the movement being easy on account of a
fence and a hedge at the further entrance to the enclosure. They
returned the fire, and several men fell upon both sides.
A slight rise in the centre of the hemp field cut off the view of the
road from the woods, and now the commander of the Confederate forces
thought he saw a clear opening before him, leading directly for
Rutherford Creek. He resolved to move in a semicircle also, and make for
the road, and gave his commands accordingly.
The march of the enemy's forces brought him on the road, midway between
the first battalion and the third, situated, as before stated, an eighth
of a mile apart. Owing to the winding course of the highway he did not
see either battalion until it was too late to retreat. Deck marched down
upon him, and Major Truman marched up, and he was caught between two
fires, with the second battalion pressing him in the rear.
But the Confederate leader was a "fire-eater," in the most positive
meaning of that term, and he resolved to make a dash for liberty by
attempting to break through Deck's command, since the field on the
road's right did not look like a promising one to enter, being broken by
a ditch and several swamps, into which horses and infantry were bound
to go down. He yelled to his leading cavalry to follow him, and, waving
his sabre over his head, charged down upon Deck like a veritable demon.
CHAPTER IX
MAJOR DECK LYON MAKES A PROMISE
"They are coming, Major!" shouted Captain Abbey, as the Confederate
leader forced his cavalry on the charge. "What had we best do?"
"Draw--pistols!" shouted Deck, by way of an answer. "Give them a round
as soon as they turn the bend."
The command had hardly been given when the first company opened fire,
followed by the second company, both wheeling to the left to let the
other companies fire. By this time the Confederates were answering with
their pistols; but, on account of their rapid riding, their aim was
poor, and the shots did but little damage.
The young major was a central figure in the combat, and more than one
soldier in gray directed his fire at him. But he escaped unharmed, to
find himself, two minutes later, faced by the Confederate leader,
wearing the straps of a major also.
The fellow was all of six feet tall, heavy-set, with a black mustache,
and beady black eyes, that somehow put Deck in mind of a rattlesnake
ready to strike. He came on, giving the Confederate yell heard so many
times before, and to be heard so many times afterward--a yell no pen can
describe, and one which arose, clear and full, above the clash of arms.
"Down you go!" hissed the major in gray, as he advanced upon Deck with
his sabre pointed, as if to run him through. His look was sufficient to
paralyze any ordinary man; but Deck did not quail, having been
confronted thus before. He spoke to Ceph, and the intelligent animal
reared up, and came down on one side, and a sharp blow from Deck's
weapon caused the Confederate's sabre to fly from his hand.
The Confederate was astonished, almost dumfounded, for he had calculated
that such a youthful commander would be "easy meat" for him. With
another yell he swung his horse in a circle to avoid a second blow from
Deck, and then, pulling his pistol, aimed it at our friend's head.
But Lieutenant Fronklyn was in a line directly behind Deck, and he did
not intend that his commander should be shot down thus readily. As the
Confederate leader's pistol went up, Fronklyn's sabre came down, and the
firearm fell to the ground, carrying with it three of the fingers which
had clutched its handle.
"Good for you, Fronklyn!" cried Deck. "I owe you one for that!" And then
the tide of the contest carried them apart.
Fully half a hundred of the Confederate horsemen were as daring as their
leader, and, while the others fell back and into the hands of the second
and third battalions of the Riverlawns, these continued to press forward
desperately, hoping to force a passage by sheer might of will power.
Truly, their bravery was worthy of a better cause.
The shock of battle was one of the heaviest Deck's battalion had ever
received, and for several minutes it looked as if the four companies
must go to pieces. But the gallant major rallied his forces, and the
Confederates were hemmed in so closely that they could neither advance
nor retreat. Sabre blows fell thick and fast, striking fire in a dozen
spots at once, and fully a dozen horses and riders went down in less
than five minutes.
But the meeting, if sharp, was also short, and with himself and two of
his officers disabled, the Confederate leader surrendered and the
fighting stopped. Scarcely had Deck received word that the fight was won
than Sandy Lyon rode up, as a special messenger from Major Belthorpe.
"The infantry are in the lower end of the hemp field," said Lieutenant
Sandy. "Where is the colonel, please?"
"With Major Truman," responded Deck. "Does Major Belthorpe need
reenforcements?"
"He says he can take the infantry if he is given two more companies."
"All right; tell him I'll be over as soon as I can get there," was the
major's answer.
He turned to Captain Richland, in charge of the second division of the
first battalion, and left it to the third and fourth companies to take
charge of the prisoners, forty-two in number. This done, he took the
first and second companies with him, and rode with all speed in the
direction his cousin had pointed out to him.
His arrival came none too soon, for Major Belthorpe was having his hands
full with the infantry of the enemy, and it looked as if they might
slip through his fingers. Finding a good position near the rise in the
field, Deck managed to drive them back toward a position they had
occupied a quarter of an hour before. In the meantime word had reached
the colonel and Major Truman, and the third battalion came up on a
gallop. A charge all along the line was made, and the Confederate
infantry was placed in full retreat. One company was captured, but the
others took to the stony ground beyond the hemp field, and under cover
of darkness managed to make their way, along with a number of other
troops, to Rutherford Creek. They were hotly pursued by the second and
the third battalions, but the high water in the creek made fording out
of the question, and the Confederates escaped on boats, rafts, and
floating logs.
As brilliant as had been Deck's services during the day, he was not
content to let matters rest as they stood. Feeling that some of the
Confederate forces might still be in the vicinity, he obtained
permission to go on a scouting tour along the creek, taking with him his
companion of many such expeditions, Life Knox. The pair left the camp
quietly, although on horseback, and were soon out of sight and hearing
of their comrades.
"It may be a wild-goose chase," said Deck, referring to what his father
had said concerning the expedition. "But if we return empty-handed,
there will be no harm done."
"Just exactly my way of looking at it, Major," answered Life, to whom
the backwoods manner of talking was now a thing of the past. Deck had
taught him how to speak correctly, and for this the tall Kentuckian was
exceedingly grateful. He often declared that it was Deck who had made
him fit to be an officer under Uncle Sam.
"General Sheridan is bound to uncover the enemy's full force," went on
the major, as he urged Ceph to make a sturdy leap over a strong running
brook. "If we--hullo, what's this?"
He stopped short, as Ceph swerved to one side, almost unseating him.
This movement, on the part of the intelligent horse, was so unusual Deck
knew at once something must be wrong. "What is it, Ceph?" he questioned,
patting the steed on the neck.
For reply the horse turned about and pointed his nose toward the meadow
grass which he had just trodden. The major leaped down and peered into
the semi-darkness.
"A Confederate captain, seriously wounded or dead," he cried to Life.
"Poor fellow, he is hardly more than a boy," he went on, gazing on the
pale, youthful face, along one side of which the blood had flowed and
dried. "Perhaps we can do something for him," and he knelt over the
prostrate body.
Life also came to the spot, and between them they raised the boyish
captain up. As they did this, he opened his eyes and gave a gasp.
"Water!" he murmured. "Water!"
Plenty of water was handy, and filling his canteen, Deck gave the
wounded one a drink and bathed his face, after which he started to bind
up the injured head with his handkerchief.
"It's no use, I'm going to die," gasped the Confederate, not able to
speak above a whisper. "Are you--you Southern men?"
"We belong to the Kentucky troops," answered Deck.
"Yes; but what side?"
"We are on the side of the Union."
At this the youthful captain gave a groan. "Then I--I can't expect
anything of you. Too bad! I wanted to send word to my sister--" A sudden
spasm of pain caused him to stop speaking.
"We are not enemies, Captain, saving on the battlefield," said Deck,
tenderly, for this case appealed strongly to his considerate heart. "You
can rest assured that I will do all that I can for you--within the lines
of my duty to the government."
"Will you? You--you look like an honest fellow--and you are young, like
me."
"The major is all right, Captain," broke in Life. "Trust him for
anything he promises."
"I come from Chattanooga, where I lived alone with my sister Rosebel.
She didn't want me to join the army, and we--we quarrelled--" The
captain gave something like a sob. "I joined the cavalry--ran away from
Rosebel--and we--we quarrelled so hard I got mad and took the money--hid
it away--down in the back cellar--in an iron pot--eight hundred dollars
in gold. If you will do a stranger and an enemy a kindness, go to
Rosebel,--or send word--ask her to forgive--ask her--tell her I am so
sorry--so sorry--" Again the captain broke off, and now his eyes closed.
"Let me give him a bit of liquor, Major," said Knox, and poured some
into his cup. The wounded youth took a swallow, and it gave him
temporary strength.
"Oh, Rosebel, if I could only see you again," he murmured. He looked at
Deck searchingly. "You will go to her--or send word?"
"I will."
"Don't forget to say how sorry I am--how ashamed I was when I got
away--not for fighting for my country--for the glorious stars and bars;
but because I--I treated her so. She was always so good, since mother
and father died."
"I will do all I can for you. But your name--I must have that," said
Deck. The captain had fallen back, and the eyes were becoming glassy.
"Perhaps he had better have some more liquor, Life," he cried.
"My name is Paul--my name is Pa--" The sufferer broke off short. In vain
he tried to speak. A shudder took possession of him, and he stretched
out--dead.
"Gone!" muttered the tall Kentuckian. "Too bad. And only a boy, Major."
Deck could not trust himself to speak. During the past two years he had
seen many men die, but no death had affected him like this. Two tears
stole silently down his browned cheeks.
"Didn't catch his name, either?" went on Life.
"No."
"Then how are you going to find that sister of his?"
"I don't know yet; but I will find a way--I must," was the firm answer.
He felt that the dead Confederate had intrusted him with a mission that
could not be ignored.
Ere now the dead had been left where they had fallen, but both Deck and
Life felt they could not leave this boyish captain lying in the meadow
grass. Looking around, they found a trench dug through the meadow to the
brook, and in a dry portion of this they deposited the body, first
relieving it of a watch, a pocket-knife, and a photograph of a
pleasant-looking Southern girl, presumedly Rosebel. The sods from the
trench still lay upon the banks, and with these and some loose dirt they
covered up the corpse. Then taking a long stick, Deck cut one end flat,
and marked upon it with a heavy pencil,--
ROSEBEL'S PAUL LIES BURIED HERE.
The stick was stuck at the top of the grave, and silently they mounted
their horses once more and proceeded on their way. It was fully ten
minutes before either of them spoke again, and then the subject was
something of an entirely different nature.
"Halt, Major!" It was Life who uttered the word, speaking in a whisper.
The tall Kentuckian had discerned three forms moving before them in the
darkness.
Deck also saw them, and brought Ceph to a stop. The three forms were on
foot, but whether friends or foes they could not tell.
They had reached the edge of the creek, and above the spot was a patch
of woods, while below was a long meadow, cut up into numerous brooks. On
the opposite side of the creek was another patch of woods much denser
than the first mentioned.
"This is the spot, Leftenant," they heard one of the party of three
remark.
"Are you sure, Bolder?" came in a second voice. "Remember, you were
mistaken before."
"Well, I'm not mistaken now," answered Bolder. "Here is the very tree I
notched."
"Yes, this is the trail," came in a third voice. "And I don't believe
there has been a single Yankee around."
"I trust not, Peters. But we are not out of the woods yet--in more ways
than one. The raft may be gone, and fording this stream in such a flood
as this is entirely out of the question."
"Oh, we could get over alone, Leftenant," answered the man named Bolder.
"But that wouldn't be getting over those cases of ammunition and that
field-pi--"
"Hush," came in a warning from the lieutenant. "You don't know but what
some of those hanged Yankees may be around here."
"That's true, though I didn't see any of 'em as we came along."
"Perhaps, Bolder, you had better make a circuit of the woods before we
get to work," said the lieutenant, a moment later. "We don't want to be
surprised at our task."
"As you say, Leftenant; Tom Bolder is here to obey Leftenant Blackrook
every time."
"Then go at once, and if you see anything alarming, give the whistle
before agreed upon," rejoined Lieutenant Blackrook, as he and Peters
moved into the grove of trees.
In a moment more Bolder had started off, gun on his shoulder. His course
was almost directly toward a clump of bushes behind which Deck and Life
had sought shelter, and from which spot they had overheard all that had
been said.
CHAPTER X
A TRIP ON A RAFT
The talk of the three Confederates had filled the young major with
interest. Evidently they had belonged to the troops just defeated, and
they were now on their way to escape to the south of Rutherford Creek,
as the main body on the retreat had gone.
But this was not all. A raft had been mentioned, also some cases of
ammunition, and something had been spoken of that sounded as if it might
have been meant for a field-piece. This looked as if the three
Confederates intended to transfer some army property as well as
themselves to a safer locality for men and goods.
It was too dark for either Deck or Life to make out the uniforms of the
enemies, but they were inclined to believe that they belonged to some
Southern battery which Wheeler had brought along, but which the
Confederate commander had been unable to bring into use. It instantly
crossed Deck's mind that it would be a big thing to bag the men, and
even a bigger thing to seize the ammunition and the field-piece.
But now a difficulty arose--a difficulty which must be met and settled
on the spot. One of the Confederates was coming toward them. What was to
be done with the man?
Deck did not doubt but that Life and himself were more than a match for
the half-starved upholder of a mistaken cause. They could easily compel
him to surrender at the point of the pistol, or they might throw him
down and gag him before he had any chance to make an outcry.
But would this be doing just the right thing, all circumstances
considered? Might not the loss of one of their number frighten off the
two others, and if the cases of ammunition and the field-piece were
hidden away, could Life and himself find the things in that woods,
filled as it was with rocks and brush? More than likely the articles had
been hidden away with care, especially the boxes of ammunition.
To Deck's way of thinking, the only thing to do was to escape the
observation of the fellow called Bolder, and then follow him up to where
the army stores and the gun were hidden. After this it would be time
enough to close in on the enemy, bring them to terms, and confiscate all
they were in charge of that was of value.
Doubtless Captain Knox's thoughts were similar to those of Deck's, for
as the Confederate artillerist advanced, he looked inquiringly at his
companion, and uttered the monosyllable, "Well?"
"We must not be discovered," whispered the major. "Turn to the left.
Easy, Ceph, easy!"
The horse understood the words of caution and moved off as silently as a
shadow of the night, to another clump of bushes. Life followed, and his
steed, also well trained, made no more noise than did Ceph. The course
of the pair took them out of the semicircle Bolder had started to make
around the patch of woods, and the Confederate passed fifty or sixty
feet to their left.
"Now we will follow him," whispered Deck, when Bolder's back was partly
turned upon them. "Be on your guard against a surprise, Life; there may
be more Confederates in this vicinity."
"I'm always on my guard," was the laconic reply, as both horses moved
off with care.
The course around the woods was a rugged one, and the journey took the
best part of twenty minutes. At times they lost sight of Bolder, but
never more than for half a minute at a time. Once they caught the
Confederate looking behind him and promptly disappeared from view into a
ditch, where flowed several inches of water.
The detour on the part of the enemy having come to an end, Bolder struck
out for the centre of the thicket. Here it was impossible to ride
without making considerable noise, and the major and Life dismounted and
fastened the animals to a tree.
"Is that you, Bolder?" came in the voice of Lieutenant Blackrook, as the
scout came into a clearing near the centre of the woods and at a point
where there was a fair-sized inlet from the creek.
"Yes."
"All clear?"
"Not a soul in sight, Leftenant. I guess our boys are further up the
stream, and the Yankees are below."
"I don't care where the Yanks are--so long as they don't come here,"
muttered the Confederate officer. "Hurry up, or we'll be all night at
this job."
"Is the raft here?"
"Yes, under yonder bushes. Help Peters carry down the three boxes of
ammunition, and then the three of us can see what we can do with the
field-piece. I'm afraid it is pretty well stuck in the mud, and we may
have to use a log or two to budge her."
"How about hosses on the other side?" asked Bolder. "We can't drag the
gun by hand, even if she is light."
"We'll find horses, never fear. Come, get to work, and I'll take a hand
myself."
Deck was in hopes that the Confederates would bring forth their
ammunition and the field-piece without delay; but such was not the case.
They first went to work on the raft, a clumsy affair built of two logs
and a dozen rough two-inch hemlock planks. The raft had become wedged
in under the brush overgrowing the bank of the inlet, and the trio
tugged and strained at a rope to bring her away. Evidently, like many
other Southerners, they were not used to work, and the task proceeded
with many growls from all hands.
The raft brought over to the inner end of the inlet, the three
Confederates took a breathing spell and passed around a bottle which the
lieutenant carried. A plug of tobacco also went the round, each
whittling off a piece to suit himself, with his jack-knife. Then the
three started along a dry gully just above the inlet. A thrashing around
in some brush followed.
"Here we are!" cried the lieutenant. "What a pity we didn't have a
chance to use that gun and the canister against the Yanks!"
"Never mind, we'll use 'em another time," answered Peters. "Catch hold,
Bolder," and he began to handle one of the ammunition cases.
Deck had seen enough, and now he touched Life on the arm, and the two
retreated to a distance where it would be safe to talk. "We've spotted
the things," he said. "What do you advise as the next move to make?"
"That is for you to say, Major."
"See here, Life, don't major me so much. You used to call me Deck.
Perhaps I had better address you as captain in the future."
"Don't you do it, Deck," pleaded the Kentuckian. "I won't say major
again, excepting when we are in the ranks."
"All right. Now, what do you think? I want your advice."
"Well, I reckon we want to capture the gun and the ammunition."
"That goes without saying."
"And we likewise want to take the fellows prisoners."
"Certainly, if it can be done--and I think it can."
"Then what more is there to say, Majo--, I mean Deck?"
"Something quite important. Shall we move against them at once, or wait
until the gun and the ammunition are loaded on the raft?"
Life Knox stared at the speaker for a moment in perplexity. Then a grin
overspread his good-natured face. "Reckon we'll let them do the work,
seeing that the stuff will be better on the raft than off it. We can't
do anything in the woods with such heavy luggage; but we might pole that
raft to some safe place in the Union territory."
"Now you've struck it, Life--just what was passing in my own mind. Come,
we'll watch the work, and I'll give the signal to open the ball with
them."
When they reached their first point of observation, they discovered that
two cases of ammunition had already been transferred to the raft. The
third followed, and then a rope was attached to the field-piece, a small
affair, but one capable of doing good execution in the hands of a
skilful gunner.
The men strained and swore at the hard work, and Deck and Life were glad
they had concluded to let the enemy undertake it instead of themselves.
To the rope two logs were added as implements by which to start the
piece, and at last it rolled over a rock in front of it, and they hauled
it to the water's edge. Here arose another difficulty, and the piece was
not placed on board until it had run the risk of dropping to the bottom
of the inlet. The weight of the gun sent the top of the raft under
water, and the lower box of ammunition received a wetting. The others,
having been placed on top of the first, remained uninjured.
"Take the lieutenant and cover him well, Life!" whispered Deck; and it
must be confessed that he was growing excited. "I will cover the man we
followed around the woods. All ready?"
"Wait till I take to the other side of the inlet," answered the captain
of the seventh company of the Riverlawns. He moved off immediately.
A low whistle told Deck when he was ready, and the major aimed his
pistol at the Confederate lieutenant, who was assisting in casting off
the rope which held the raft to the shore. The man Life was covering
stood on the raft, with his comrade, ready to pole the craft out into
the creek.
"Surrender!" The word rang out loudly, and its force covered up any
nervousness Deck may have felt.
The command took the three Confederates completely by surprise. One of
them dropped his pole, and the lieutenant let go the rope and
straightened up.
"What's that?" he queried, as if he had not heard aright.
"Surrender!" repeated Life Knox, from the opposite side of the inlet.
"If you don't, every one of you is a dead man!"
"Throw down your pistols," went on Deck, and the men turned again toward
the spot from which the first voice had come. Of course the major and
the captain kept themselves well concealed from view, and the
Confederates saw nothing in the gloom.
"Who are you?" questioned Lieutenant Blackrook, grating his teeth in
chagrin.
"We're a detachment of Union troops--true blue Kentucky cavalry--and
each man a crack shot. Do you surrender, or do you prefer to be bored
full of holes?"
"For Heaven's sake, don't shoot me down like a dog!" burst out Bolder,
whose name belied his nature.
"Shut up, Bolder!" yelled the lieutenant. "How many of you out there?"
he went on, and at the same moment leaped on the raft with the evident
intention of hiding behind the boxes of ammunition.
"Halt! I'll give you five seconds in which to throw down your arms,"
went on Deck, and began to count off the seconds. More frightened than
ever, Bolder flung his pistol in the brush at Deck's feet, and, seeing
this, Peters did the same, and followed the pistol up with a sword he
carried.
The Confederate lieutenant, however, was game, and dodging behind the
boxes of ammunition made a leap from the inlet into the creek proper.
Deck immediately fired at him, but owing to the darkness, the major's
aim was poor and the bullet passed harmlessly by. Life Knox also took a
shot, with no better result. Listening, they heard the lieutenant come
up and strike out for the opposite shore. But he kept as far under the
surface as his necessary breathing allowed, and the darkness speedily
hid him entirely from view.
Satisfied that Bolder and Peters had no other weapons than those thrown
down, Deck and Life came out into the open. As they did this, however,
Deck turned back, as if speaking to others in the brush. "You fellows
keep back until I tell you to come out," he said, and the two
Confederates immediately felt certain that a detachment of at least
eight or ten Yankees had surrounded them.
"Are you willing to submit quietly?" demanded the major, approaching
Peters, for he felt sure Bolder would do nothing of his own account.
"Can't help myself, Cap'n," answered Peters, who had not yet discovered
the young officer's rank.
"Are there any more of your kind about here?"
"I don't reckon there are, Cap'n."
"Where have the others gone?"
"Don't know as I kin answer that question, Major. Say, this is a right
handsome bit of work for an officer as young as you, Major."
"I want to know how close your nearest troops are to us?"
Before Peters could answer, a pistol cracked out from the opposite shore
of the creek. The ball whistled through the trees over Deck's head.
Crack! It was Life Knox's weapon in reply, but whether or not any damage
was done could not be determined.
"We must leave this spot, Deck!" cried the tall Kentuckian. "Whoever
fired that shot has our range here."
"It must be that lieutenant," answered Deck, and he was right.
Lieutenant Blackrook had swum directly across the creek and was now
firing as rapidly as possible.
"Tell the rascal to stop, or he may hit you," said Life to the two
Confederates.
"Stop that firing!" roared Bolder. "Don't hit your friends!"
"Take to the water, you cowards!" came in the lieutenant's voice, and he
fired again, a shot that both Deck and Life returned.
Nobody was touched, and now Deck ordered the Confederates to pole the
raft into the creek and down that watercourse, as he remembered what had
been said about the Southern forces being further up. All he desired at
present was to get out of reach of the enemy, and remain so until he
could get reenforcements.
Inside of two minutes the raft was out of the inlet, and the trip down
the stream began. The flow of the current was in their favor, and soon
the woods was left behind, and they came out between meadow banks on
both sides. The Confederates remained passive enough, and Deck gave his
whole attention to discovering a suitable landing place--one which might
put him within easy call of assistance.
As has been said, it had grown dark, and now a fog began to creep over
the meadows and the creek, gradually shutting every object but those
close at hand, from view. The fog was very penetrating, and all on board
began to shiver with the cold.
"Where are you goin' to take us?" asked Bolder, presently.
"To a safe place, my man," answered Life. "Better not ask any more
questions."
"We are booked for a Northern prison, I reckon," said Peters, gloomily.
"If those prisons are as bad as I've been told they are, I'd rather be
shot than taken to one."
"All right; we'll shoot you if you say so," rejoined the Kentuckian; and
then the Confederates relapsed once more into silence.
"There seems to be a bend here--" began Deck, a moment later. "The fog
is so thick I can't see if we are turning to the left or the right. If
we--"
He got no further, for a shock told him that the raft had grounded. A
cry of consternation escaped his lips. They were on the Confederate side
of the swollen stream.
CHAPTER XI
THE ENCOUNTER AT THE RAILROAD TRESTLE
"Here's a pretty mess, Life!"
"We'd better get off just as quick as we can," answered the captain of
the seventh company. "For all we know to the contrary there may be two
or three thousand rebels around this shore."
"Pole her off!" cried Deck to the Confederates, and ran to assist.
Bolder began to do as directed, but Peters, without looking back, leaped
for the ground beyond, and ran for it as rapidly as his long legs would
carry him. Life was about to fire on him, when the major checked him.
"Don't do it, Life; it may bring the enemy around our ears."
"Right you are, Deck," answered the Kentuckian. "But don't you dare to
go," and he shook his weapon threateningly at Bolder.
"I ain't goin'," was the sullen response, and the Confederate began to
use his pole, although straining his eyes in the hope that Peters or
Lieutenant Blackrook would appear with aid for him.
But nobody came, and in a few minutes more the raft was again in
midstream. Deck now kept her headed for the other shore, and before long
they drifted up into a meadow which was overflown for several acres.
Here they ground so hard it was impossible to budge the unwieldy craft;
and the voyage came to a termination.
Before leaving the raft, Deck bound Bolder's hands behind him. Looking
across the meadow they discovered a farmhouse not over a hundred yards
away, and hurried in that direction.
"Major Lyon, where have you been?" the cry came from Major Tom
Belthorpe. "You look as if you had been lost in the fog."
"We were--a short time," answered Deck. He looked around and saw that
Tom had a dozen soldiers with him. "I don't know what you and your men
are doing here, but if you haven't anything in particular to do, I'd
like you to help Captain Knox and myself."
"Why, what's up?"
"We went out on a scouting tour and captured one rebel, three boxes of
ammunition, and a small field-piece."
The eyes of Kate Belthorpe's brother opened very widely. "Jee-rusa-lem!
but you are doing things by the wholesale, Major,--one reb, three boxes
of ammunition, and a gun! Where are they?"
"Down in the meadow lot below here. But you haven't told me what brought
you here yet."
"Four prisoners got away and we gave chase,--that is, my men did. I met
them on the road and came along, just for the excitement. We collared
three of them, and the fourth escaped in the fog. Certainly, I'll go
with you."
The pair of majors set off, Belthorpe taking six men with him. It was
not long before Bolder was placed among the other prisoners, and the lot
were hurried to the prisoners' camp, a mile and three-quarters away. By
messenger Deck sent word to his father regarding the capture of
ammunition and the field-piece.
As may well be imagined, Colonel Lyon was more pleased than ever over
this new exploit of his son. The matter was referred to the commandant
of the cavalry forces, and soon a detail of artillery came over and took
formal charge of the capture. Later on the field-piece was used to take
the place of one lost on Duck River some months back.
Van Dorn had retreated to the territory south of Rutherford Creek, and
for the present no further pursuit was inaugurated, and the Riverlawns
found themselves taking it easy, enjoying a well-earned rest. In the
meantime Morgan became active again, and the second division of
Reynold's brigade, under Colonel Hall, was sent in his pursuit. The
division took a stand near Milton, and Morgan, after trying in vain to
dodge to the right or the left, and, after a stubborn contest lasting
about four hours, was forced to retreat, with heavy losses.
But the daring Confederate cavalry leader, now reenforced by some of the
best Confederate soldiers which the State of Kentucky ever reared, was
on his mettle, and resolved to make his raid in that State a success. He
had gone to Liberty, and was preparing to make another dash, when
Stanley's cavalry came upon him, and forced a fight between Liberty and
Snow Hill. Morgan fought desperately, but Stanley was too wide-awake for
him, and turned his left flank, and the raiders became demoralized, the
exact reason for which has never been explained. Carbines were thrown
away, horses went wild, and teamsters deserted their wagons; and the
battle ended in such a rout that it took Morgan ten days to get his
troops together again. Many another leader would have given up in
disgust after such a scene as this; but Morgan's nerve was of iron, and
he acknowledged no such word as fail.
It was about the middle of April that the Riverlawns received word to
move again. In the meantime Deck had not forgotten the dead Confederate
named Paul who had a sister called Rosebel living at Chattanooga. He had
made diligent inquiries concerning the young man and his family, but, so
far, nothing definite had turned up. He was hoping to get some word from
such prisoners as might have had their homes at Chattanooga; but these
prisoners were hard to find.
The movement of the Riverlawns was again in connection with two
brigades of cavalry under Minty. To this force was united three brigades
of infantry under General J. Reynolds and Wilder's mounted infantry.
Orders were to proceed to McMinnville, take possession of the town, and
destroy the railroad from there to Manchester. If the expedition should
prove a success thus far, the troops were then to be reenforced by
others from Carthage, and Morgan was to be attacked again.
The weather was not bad overhead, although hardly clear; but the roads
were in a deplorable condition, and, as the regiment advanced along the
road, the horses sunk up to their fetlocks in mud, while the train of
wagons was even worse off. At short distances one or more wagons would
get stuck, and extra horses would be needed to pull the vehicles from
the ruts. After proceeding with the cavalry for three hours, Captain
Batterson's battery was turned back, to take up a position which was
being guarded near the river.
The railroad reached, at a point just outside of the town, a staff
officer presented himself to Colonel Lyon, who was riding at ease, with
Lieutenant-Colonel Gordon at his side.
"Colonel Lyon, the general directs that you take the road branching off
just below here and leading to the trestlework of the railroad. You are
to destroy as much of the trestle and the road-bed of the railroad as
you can, also burn all supplies and sheds containing the same."
"Very well; tell General Reynolds I will do my best," replied Colonel
Lyon. Then turning, he gave the necessary orders, and the Riverlawns
detached themselves from the other cavalry and galloped down the side
road indicated.
At this time McMinnville was but a small place, yet it boasted of a
newspaper, and the surrounding territory was rich in fruit and other
farms. The ground in spots was full of hollows, and over these the
railroad corporation had built a series of trestles, with here and there
a shed and a siding for freight cars.
Coming within sight of the trestle mentioned to him, Colonel Lyon found
it guarded by a small company of Southerners, determined-looking men,
about half uniformed, yet each with a trusty-looking gun in his hands.
The Southerners opened fire without any parleying, and two cavalrymen
were struck, although not seriously.
"They have a fine position, Colonel," remarked Lieutenant-Colonel
Gordon. "They are above us, and that planking on this side gives them a
first-class protection."
"That is right, Gordon; but we'll dislodge them fast enough," answered
Noah Lyon, confidently. A leader somewhat against his will, he had now
studied up military tactics in dead earnest, and with him, as with his
son Deck, nothing was an impossibility.
The first battalion was ordered to halt and take a safe place behind a
slight rise of ground to the northwest of the trestle. The second was
marched around to the north, and the third to the south. This done, the
party above was pretty well surrounded. Half a dozen shots were
exchanged, but the planking mentioned protected the Confederates, and
they did not budge.
It would have been easy to have advanced upon the party from both ends
of the trestlework, but this would have cost a severe loss of life, and
the humane colonel was for protecting his men from all injury if the
thing could be done.
While Colonel Lyon was debating in his mind what should be his next
movement, Artie came up and saluted, having received the proper
permission from his major. The young captain observed the formalities as
though the colonel was of no relationship to him.
"Colonel, I have to report something which may be of importance to you,"
he said.
"Well, Captain, what is it?" smiled the colonel. "A sure way to defeat
the enemy?"
"Our company has discovered that a barrel of tar lies at the northeast
end of the trestle. A freight car above was broken open, and I think the
barrel was jounced out, as the road-bed seems to be very uneven,
especially at the curve."
"The tar will certainly be useful to us, Artie."
"Yes, sir, especially as the wind is blowing from the northeast," went
on the captain. "Tar, you know, makes a good, thick smoke."
The colonel stared for an instant, then a smile came into his face.
"Artie, I see you are bound to be a general like Deck. Your plan is to
smoke the enemy out."
"I only mentioned what we had found, and how the wind was blowing," was
the modest return.
"It amounts to the same thing. You can light that barrel, and roll it as
close up to the enemy as you dare. I will send the third battalion
around to the lower end of the trestle. Send Major Belthorpe to me."
Artie retired, and presently Tom Belthorpe came dashing up. He was told
to keep a strict watch through the smoke for the enemy, should they turn
up the tracks. Then Colonel Lyon galloped off with the third battalion
in the opposite direction.
It was not long before the tar barrel was blazing merrily, and to add to
the smoke some of the soldiers threw on a mass of dead and wet brush.
The dense cloud rolled upward, and the wind carried it directly to the
spot where the Confederates were located. In the midst of the smoke the
barrel was rolled closer, until it set fire to the northeast end of the
trestle.
Blinded and choked, the Confederates fired several volleys at random,
and were then compelled to seek some spot where a breath of pure air
might be obtained. Some ran up the tracks and some down, and these
engaged the second and the third battalions. A few, risking life and
limb, leaped from the trestle through the advancing fire beneath; but
these were captured by Major Deck's command, each man being fully
covered as he landed.
To Life Knox's gallant seventh company fell the lot of resisting the
majority of those who had defended the trestle, and a desperate conflict
took place in a small hollow at a second trestle above the first. The
Confederate company was scarcely drilled, yet each man knew how to
shoot, and when surrounded the fellows discarded their arms, and used
their fists and such clubs as they had picked up on the railroad. As one
Irishman in the seventh company declared afterward, "It was the most
delightful Donnybrook fair he had seen since lavin' the ould country!" A
private of Kentuckian blood declared, "They didn't know enough as
soldiers to surrender, but jest fit, an' fit, an' fit!" This pitched
battle was laughed over for many a day afterward. In the end, however,
every Confederate was taken prisoner.
By the time the contest closed, the trestle was burning at a furious
rate, and the regiment was ordered further along. Inside of an hour they
found themselves in McMinnville, and here the battalions were divided.
A portion of a Confederate regiment had taken a stand at a cotton mill
not a great distance from the depot, and Deck's battalion was sent to
the place to dislodge them.
With the intrepid major at the head, the four companies advanced on the
double-quick until the cotton mill in question was gained. A halt was
made, and as several shots were fired, the major directed his companies
to take shelter behind a number of outbuildings. Here several
Confederates were brought to light and made prisoners.
The taking of the cotton mill looked as if it would be a much harder
task than had been that of deposing the company at the trestle. The
Confederates were located at every window and door of the building, and
as soon as any one of Deck's command appeared he was fired upon.
Moreover, the mill stood in a plot of ground by itself, so it could not
be approached excepting by a dash through the open.
"We have a nice bit of work cut out for us now, Major," observed Captain
Abbey, of the first company, as he gazed at the solid-looking building
in perplexity. "That makes a first-class fort."
"I was thinking as much myself," answered Deck.
"Can't we smoke them out--as we did down to the railroad?"
"There is nothing at hand with which to build a fire. I wouldn't care to
burn the fellows up, either."
"Then let them come out and surrender."
"The mill is on fire!" suddenly shouted some one. "The enemy must have
set the blaze themselves."
The report was correct, and in a minute more a heavy volume of smoke
burst from several windows. Men leaped from half a dozen openings, and
in a short while enough had gathered to form a good-sized company.
"Charge!" yelled a captain, savagely. "Break right through the Northern
mudsills!"
And the Confederates charged, straight for the two companies commanded
by Captain Richland and Artie Lyon.
CHAPTER XII
IN THE BURNING COTTON MILL
The two companies were in such positions that Captain Artie's command
would be the first to receive the charge of the Confederates, who were
coming on yelling like demons. The enemy felt that the chances of escape
were slim, and came on in sheer desperation; and a crowd of desperate
men can accomplish a good deal at times.
But Artie, youthful as he was, did not quail. As rapidly as it could be
accomplished, he wheeled to one side and shouted to his first line to
"Take aim--fire!" And the blaze of the carbines caused a temporary
check.
As the Confederates came on again, the second line emptied their
weapons. Again there was a halt, and the enemy's line split, as though
the men had thought better of it and were desirous of running around the
Union soldiers.
Artie saw the movement and turned to Captain Richland. "I can take care
of the crowd on the right," he said.
"All right; I'll take that on the left," was the quick reply, and the
third company of the first battalion opened fire, while Artie's command
double-quicked to the new position indicated.
Again came a charge against the fourth company. But the force of the
Confederates now numbered but eighteen, and with two men shot down they
retreated as quickly as they had charged, and sought shelter behind the
cotton mill. Here the first company dislodged them, and then they threw
down their arms.
The other wing, led by the impetuous captain, hurled itself against
Captain Richland's company. The Confederate leader was supported by half
a dozen "fire-eaters," and about two score men; and although the charge
was not entirely successful, yet in the general melee resulting, the
captain and about half of those behind him managed to escape. The others
were either shot down or added to the prisoners previously taken.
The mill was now burning furiously at one end, making one of the
hottest fires the Lyon boys had ever witnessed. In it were stored
hundreds of bales of cotton which the owners had been trying to work off
in one way or another for months, but without success, for the cotton
trade of the Southern states was glutted, the blockade runners from
Europe carrying away only a small portion of the product.
"That building is doomed," observed Deck to Artie, who had come up,
breathing heavily after his hard work in disarming a burly ruffian who
had tried to cut him down from behind. "We may as well move on with our
prisoners."
Deck had scarcely spoken, when a cry rent the air. The cry came in a
man's voice, and was full of agony and terror.
"Help! help! help!"
"The cry comes from the other end of the mill," exclaimed Artie. "Come
on around and see what is up," and he ran off; for he was on foot, as
was also the major.
The end to which the captain had referred was not yet in a blaze, but
the smoke was curling from every opening, showing that the fire was
making rapid headway in that direction. Presently came a change in the
wind, causing the smoke to veer around.
"It's a man--in that upper window!" ejaculated Artie, pointing with his
hand. "Why don't you jump down?" he yelled.
"I can't!" came in a painful gasp. "My leg is caught fast in some
machinery and I can't loosen it. Save me, for the love of Heaven! Don't
let me die like this--even if I am a Confederate!"
"Caught fast!" echoed Deck. "Can't you break away at all?"
"No! no! Reckon my leg is broken!" The unfortunate one gave a moan of
pain. "Won't you do something for me?"
"I will--if it can be done," answered Deck. He turned to the cavalrymen
standing near. "Boys, have any of you seen a ladder about?"
One and another shook their heads. "There's a box," said one, "but it's
not over three feet high, and the window is twenty feet up."
"The box won't do. How about a rope?"
"Here's a stout cord," said another.
"Not heavy enough."
"Help me--quick! The fire is coming this way!" shrieked the imperilled
Confederate. "Save me, and I'll give you all I'm worth!"
"I'm coming!" answered Deck. "I wonder where the stairs are," he half
muttered, as he turned toward one of the entrances to the mill.
"For gracious' sake, Deck, what are you going to do?" cried Artie.
"Going to that fellow's aid."
"But it's not safe to enter the building. The fire is working this way
just as hard as it can."
"I'll risk it, Artie; I don't want to see that poor fellow die like a
rat in a trap."
"Yes, but--but--"
"There is no time to waste, Artie," answered Deck, and breaking away
from the hold the captain had taken, he leaped for the wide-open door of
the mill.
"If he goes, I'll go too," cried Artie, and started to follow the major;
but strong hands held him back.
"One is enough," said Captain Abbey. "I trust he is successful."
Captain Richland shook his head seriously. "The fire is sweeping to
this quarter of the building with great swiftness," he remarked.
Into the building rushed Deck, to find himself at once in an atmosphere
charged with smoke, yet not so heavily but that he could see about him.
To his left was a rough wooden stairway with an iron rod for a
hand-rail. Leaping for this, he began to mount the stairs three steps at
a time.
The higher up he went, the thicker became the smoke, and on the upper
flooring he could scarcely breathe. Bending low, to get the benefit of
any air which might be circulating, he crept along in the direction of
the Confederate sufferer. He had gone but a dozen steps when he halted.
Before him was what appeared to be a solid wooden partition.
"Hi! where are you?" he called out; but the fire had now crept so close
that the crackling of the flames drowned out every other sound. Feeling
that it would be a waste of precious time to remain where he was, he ran
along the wooden barrier from one end to the other. A door at last was
found, but it was tightly closed and refused to budge.
Taking his sabre, Deck attempted to get it in the crack between the door
and its frame. The point only could be introduced, and not caring to
break this off, he withdrew the blade. By this time the smoke was making
him dizzy, and he flew for a window to get some air.
"Help!" he heard the Confederate cry again, and now made a discovery he
fancied would be of advantage to him in his endeavor to assist the
unfortunate man. The window to which he had made his way was within two
feet of the wooden partition, while the window at which the Confederate
was calling from was an equal distance from the partition, on the other
side. The two windows, therefore, were but four feet apart.
As has been mentioned, it was twenty feet to the ground, a distance
great enough to cause serious results should the major take a tumble.
But Deck did not count the consequences. He was going to help the rebel
if he could.
Crawling forth, he turned on the window-sill and stood upright. The
framing was not over six inches in depth and was plain, affording but a
scant hold. He had hardly appeared when a shout went up from below.
"There is the major now!"
"Major, look out there, or you'll break your neck!"
These and other remarks were made, but Deck paid no attention further
than to "look out," whatever that might mean. In reality his gaze was
fastened on the window next to him, and now he leaned over and caught
hold of the edging. But at this distance the hold was too uncertain to
be depended upon, and he drew back.
The question of what was to be done next was a serious one. The wind had
shifted again, giving a temporary check to the fire in that direction;
but it would shift back, and then Deck felt the end of the mill would be
close at hand. He looked at the next window again.
A large nail caught his eye, fastened at the top of the frame. He felt
that this would hold, if only he could reach it. He took off his sabre
belt and examined it.
The belt was strong and so was the buckle, and leaning over he threw one
end of the belt out, not once, but several times. At last a portion of
the buckle caught over the nail. He pulled on the leather to make sure
it would bear his weight, then swung to the sill of the next window with
ease.
"Thank Heaven!" he heard the Confederate ejaculate. The man had been
holding himself up as far as possible, but had now dropped flat on his
back.
Despite the smoke, the major soon took in the situation. The Confederate
had stepped upon the lever of a compressor; the jaw of the machine had
opened, and his leg had been caught and held. Whether the limb was
broken or not, the major could not tell; but it was certain the
unfortunate one was suffering intense pain, and this, added to his
fright because of the fire, made him truly an object of compassion.
"Can you--you--release me?" he groaned, and he seemed to be on the point
of fainting.
For reply Deck grasped the lever and attempted to force it back. It was
stuck, and he had to exert all his strength to move it even an inch.
Seeing an iron rod handy, he used it as another kind of lever, and with
a click the jaws of the machine opened, and the Confederate was free.
"What shall I do?" he asked, in a whisper. "I--I can't walk."
"I will carry you," answered Deck. "Wait just a second."
He bounded along the wooden partition to where the door was situated.
The air was tremendously hot, and the wind was shifting back. As he
gained the door there was a dull booming, as a portion of the flooring
in another department of the mill gave way, and the whole structure
began to shake.
The door was merely latched and he flung it wide open. But this created
a draught, and he closed it again; then ran back for the Confederate.
The poor fellow had fainted.
The load was a heavy one, but in the excitement Deck could have carried
twice the weight. Flinging his burden over his right shoulder, he
staggered through the smoke. The room was now ablaze overhead, and the
sparks fell thickly upon his unprotected head and neck.
"God see us both through this in safety!" was the silent prayer which
came from his heart, and now the door was reached again. In a moment
more he stood in the apartment he had first entered. A look of
consternation spread over his pale, set face.
The fire had been at work overhead, running from end to end of the mill
roof. Now it had worked its way downward, and that part of the ceiling
above the stairway was a seething and roaring mass of flames and smoke.
It looked as if at any instant a portion of the roof might cave in,
burying the whole stairway beneath it.
Should he risk a descent? Deck's heart almost stood still as he asked
himself the question. He was brave, even to rashness; but this was very
much like courting death. For the moment he thought of home, his mother,
and of sweet Kate Belthorpe. Should he risk being torn from all that was
dear to him?
Another booming decided him. The fire had come down behind him, cutting
off his retreat. He must go forward or give up the struggle. With
another silent prayer that Heaven might guide and protect him, he
grasped his burden closer and advanced to the top of the stairs. Soon he
was hurrying downward as rapidly as the weight on his shoulder would
permit. Five steps were passed and he paused.
A blazing board had come down directly in front of him. As he stood
still, another came down, striking him on the unoccupied shoulder. He
waited no longer, but, calculating as well as he could, made a clean
leap to the bottom.
Luckily he landed squarely, and, though his burden made him stagger, he
did not fall. As he started for the open doorway, there was a crash, and
the stairway became a thing of the past. The young major had missed
death by less than five seconds.
How he gained the open air, Deck could not tell afterward. The smoke was
so thick he could not see, and breathing was out of the question. "Out
there--help me!" he yelled, when he saw the light, and then Artie and
several others ran to his aid. Two cavalrymen took the unconscious
Confederate and laid him on the grass.
"Deck, are you hurt?" asked the young captain, anxiously, seeing how
pale the young officer was. The major could not stand upright.
"Hurt? No--I'm--I'm--all right," was the answer; and then the gallant
youth fainted dead away.
With the wounded, he was carried on a stretcher to the nearest
ambulance. Artie was permitted to go along, and Captain Abbey took
command of the battalion. The Confederate was placed among the wounded
of his own company.
Colonel Lyon was not near the mill, and it was not until night that he
heard Deck was sick. The major did not recover consciousness for an
hour, and then it was found he had a fever. That night was an anxious
one for both the colonel and the young captain, and the morning brought
small comfort. Deck was out of his mind, and the doctor was afraid he
had inhaled too much smoke, and possibly some of the flames.
"The boy meant well, but he overdid the matter," said Colonel Lyon,
sadly. "I warned him over and over again to be more careful; but he was
too anxious to make a record for himself to listen to me. If anything
happens to him, what will his mother and the others say?"
CHAPTER XIII
AN ADVANCE ALL ALONG THE LINE
General Bragg, the Confederate commander, had established his
headquarters at Tullahoma, but his troops lay some twenty or thirty
miles to the north of that town, in a grand semicircle extending from
Wartrace on the east, through Shelbyville to Columbia on the west. The
troops numbered about forty thousand, of all sorts, according to the
commander's own report, and a larger portion of them were sheltered
behind hastily constructed intrenchments.
Although Bragg occupied this advanced position, General Rosecrans was
certain that should the Confederate be unable to hold Shelbyville and
the surrounding territory, he would retreat to his stronger
intrenchments at Tullahoma. This town, situated on the rocky bank of
Duck River and surrounded by mountainous passes, was an ideal
stronghold. Once the Southern forces should retreat to it, to follow
them would be extremely hazardous, for the Confederates could easily
command the river and every defile, and pour in a hot fire without
permitting the Union troops to get a shot in return.
Under these circumstances, General Rosecrans determined, if possible, to
cut off the Confederate's chances of retreating to Tullahoma, or, at
least, of retreating by the direct way. To do this, he determined to
turn the enemy's right, and then make a dash for the railroad bridge at
Elk River. Once he had turned the enemy's right and gained the bridge,
Bragg, if he retreated, would have to go to Tullahoma by side roads,
where both armies would have an equal chance in fighting, so far as the
lay of the land was concerned.
In all military operations, one of the main elements of success lies in
the fact of keeping the other fellow guessing what you are going to do
until you do it; and, in order to blind General Bragg as to his real
intention, General Rosecrans started in by making an attack on the
Confederate centre, as though he intended to push through at that point
if he could. While this was going on he hurried his main divisions
around to the enemy's right.
The army numbered many thousands of infantry, cavalry, and artillery;
the battle-ground extended over many miles of territory; and to get
every regiment in its proper place was no light task. Messages flew
hither and thither, carried by telegraph and by horseback messengers,
and many a detail was completed only to be totally altered at the last
moment. And while this was going on, a close watch had to be kept on the
enemy, for fear he would make some movement never dreamed of by our
troops.
After months of preparation and numerous small conflicts, the army began
to move on the 23d of June, 1863. It was divided into three corps, the
right under McCook, the centre under Thomas, and the left under
Crittenden. The weather was by no means favorable; and soon it was
raining in torrents, rendering the roads a mass of liquid mud, and
swelling even the smaller streams to such an extent that they could
scarcely be forded. In a campaign lasting nine days, General Rosecrans
declares that their advance was delayed ninety hours by the elements.
After their work along the railroad in the vicinity of McMinnville, the
Riverlawns were ordered to Triune, where they went into camp just
outside of the town, on the bank of a little creek backed up by a hemp
field. Their hospital tent was located in the midst of this field, and
here, on a cot, lay Deck, suffering in a manner that was new to the
doctors caring for him. At times the major was out of his mind, then he
would be rational, but so weak he could scarcely talk.
"It's awful--simply awful," said Artie, to his Cousin Sandy one day.
"It's the worst case I ever heard of."
"It is too bad," replied the second lieutenant, of Captain Gadbury's
command. "I wish I could do something for him, I really do."
There was a great change in Sandy Lyon. He was no longer the wild fellow
he had been. Army discipline had made a man of him, and he was a
first-class soldier in every sense of the word. Only one thing he
regretted, that being that he had not become attached to the Engineering
Corps. He declared that as soon as the war was over he was going to
study hard and become an architect and builder.
The change in Titus Lyon was also great. He had kept the pledge, and
his brother Noah could not have had a more useful adjutant. The brothers
were real brothers once more, much to the satisfaction of Titus's wife
and daughters, as well as the other members of the Lyon family at large.
At last Colonel Lyon began to think of sending Deck home, although he
hated the thought of having the youth where he could not see him
constantly. Moreover, Mrs. Lyon had not been informed of how much Deck
was suffering, and the truth might give her a shock.
It was three weeks previous to the movement of the army upon the
Confederate forces that the major began to mend. At first the change was
gradual, but inside of ten days he was up on his feet. His appetite now
came back, and he began to walk around, declaring that he would soon be
as well as ever.
"Deck, you must take no more such risks--I positively forbid it," said
Colonel Lyon, when calling on his son one evening.
"All right, father, I'll try to be more careful," answered Deck, with a
faint smile. "To tell the truth, I didn't realize what a risk it was
until it was too late to turn back. On that account, I don't think I am
half the hero the boys are making me out to be."
"I have a letter for you," continued the colonel, producing the
communication. "It will certainly interest you, for it is from the
Confederate soldier you rescued from the mill."
"Is that so? How is he doing?"
"He is doing too much--he got so well that he ran away yesterday."
"Ran away!"
"Exactly; and left that letter behind. Read it," and Deck did so. The
communication ran as follows:--
"MAJOR DEXTER LYON:--
"_My Dear Sir:_ I am on the point of trying to make my escape
from the sick camp in which I have been placed by your Union
hospital surgeons. It is a rather shabby way to act after such
kindness, but I have no hankering after a life in a Northern
prison pen.
"Before I leave, and knowing well I shall run the risk of being
shot down, I wish to thank you for your goodness in rescuing me
from the burning cotton mill. You did more for me than I think
I should have done for any Northern man--you risked your life
to save mine. Major Lyon, I thank you from the bottom of my
heart, and if it ever comes in my power to do you a good turn
I shall do it--no matter what it may cost me. I thank you
again.
"Yours respectfully,
"THOMAS DERWIDDIE,
"_Tennessee Volunteers._"
"Did they follow Thomas Derwiddie up?" asked Deck, as he folded the
letter. It was written on a scrap of very old and dirty newspaper, in
pencil.
"They tried to; but they could not catch him. I reckon by this time he
is well within the Southern lines."
"He is certainly very thankful," mused the major. "Come what may, it
would seem that I have one friend in the South--although it is likely I
shall never see or hear of him again."
"That is true, Deck; yet it must make you feel glad to know the fellow
appreciates your kindness."
"It does, father; I shall prize the letter very highly," and Deck placed
it in an inner pocket. When next he wrote to Kate Belthorpe he enclosed
the communication with his own, and Kate thought almost as much of one
letter as of the other.
The first cavalry division, under General Mitchell, was located near
Triune, and this division now moved forward, on the Eagleville and
Shelbyville turnpike, in the direction of the enemy's centre and left.
Less than half an hour after came the order for the Riverlawns to move
in a similar manner.
"Hurrah! we'll soon be in it again!" cried Captain Artie, rushing into
his company street with the news. "Get to moving, boys; for there is no
time to lose. We are going to smash the rebs this trip."
"Well, I hope so," said Black, his first lieutenant. "How about your
brother, the major?"
"Deck is going along. My father doesn't like to hear of it; but the
major says he is feeling all right again. I reckon he will take it a bit
easy, though."
There was little time to say more, for the call to move made plenty of
work for everybody. Every man was supplied with twelve days' rations of
bread, coffee, sugar, and salt, and six days' rations of pork and bacon,
while other meat was carried "on the hoof," as it was expressed, that
is, alive, the animals being driven along in droves, or tied to the
rear of the supply wagons.
"I'm glad we're going to move, but I'd just as lief have clear weather
for it," observed Life Knox, as he came up, shaking the water from his
military cape. "Captain Lyon, do you feel like taking a dash of some ten
or twelve miles on horseback with me?"
"A dash--where to?" queried Artie, stopping in his operations of
strapping his belongings together.
"The general wants to learn in what condition the side road to the
southeast is in, and he has detailed me to make an investigation. I can
take any one along whom I please, and I thought of you and Deck; but
Deck is not fit to go, even though I have seen him around on his
faithful old Ceph."
"The side roads are probably drowned out," laughed Artie. "But I'll go,
with pleasure--scouting always did just hit me right," and without delay
he turned over his command to Lieutenant Black.
Inside of a quarter of an hour, the two captains were off, each mounted
on his favorite horse, each fully armed, and each carrying his rations
with him. The rain came down steadily, and the horses sent the water
flying in all directions as they pushed their way along over a turnpike
covered with pools.
"Does the general think of sending troops by that side road?" asked
Artie, presently, as a turn hid them from their late companions, who had
wondered where they were going.
"Nothing was said about that, and I didn't ask any questions," returned
Life. "My private opinion is, he wants to make sure the road can be used
in case the rebels try to break through our corps."
"They wouldn't dare to do that."
"They might dare anything, Artie. Bragg has some fine soldiers under
him--not the least doubt of that. The more I see of this campaign, the
more I am convinced that the war will not end until there has been an
immense amount of blood shed. We began in a haphazard sort of way, but
we are speedily getting down to business."
"I agree with you there, Life. Of course Bragg will drive us back to
Kentucky, if he can; in fact, he'll drive us through Indiana into the
Lakes, if we let him. But we are not going to let him," concluded the
youthful captain of the fourth company.
They had been moving along a level road, but now a second turn took them
up a gentle slope, from the top of which a bird's-eye view of a small
stretch of country could be obtained. Behind them, to the right and the
left, many companies of soldiers, afoot and on horseback, could be seen
advancing southward.
"There is the road we are to investigate," said Life, pointing with his
long forefinger. "By the lay of the land, I should say it doesn't amount
to anything. The infantry and cavalry may get through, but never the
artillery."
"Well, all we can do is to make an examination and report," answered
Artie. "But see here, why isn't a detail of the Engineering Corps doing
this work?"
"Every man is engaged elsewhere. Besides, we are to look for rebels
while we are at it. The general is inclined to believe there are spies
in this vicinity. If we run across any such cattle, we are to lasso them
and bring them in."
After this, the two relapsed into silence, for the rain was driving into
their faces, and it was difficult to talk while muffled up in their
storm capes. They descended the slope on the other side, then turned
into a small woods, where the tall trees afforded some shelter.
Two miles had been covered, and the horses were making good time on a
rocky road-bed, when, looking ahead, they saw a split in the highway.
One branch ran to the southward, the second, a few points to the
eastward.
"Which is which?" asked Artie, as he drew rein.
"That's the riddle. One road looks as if it was travelled about as much
as the second."
"And neither very much, Life."
"I think we had better try the one to the right."
"And I was going to suggest the one on the left."
"Well, they can't both be right."
"No, only one is right--the other is left," laughed the young captain.
"And you'll be left to take the left," said the tall Kentuckian. "But,
seriously, which had we better follow?"
"I don't know--unless we toss up for it."
"There may be sign-boards about. Let us look."
They made a careful survey of all the trees and posts in the vicinity,
but nothing like a guide-post came to light. If there had been signs,
the enemy had removed them long before.
"I have a suggestion to make," said Artie, as the pair came together in
the road again. "Let us each take to a road and ride, say, quarter of a
mile. Then we can return and compare notes."
"That would certainly be better than halting in the rain, Artie. It's
settled, and I'm off," and using his spurs, Life Knox dashed away down
the road to the right. A few seconds later, Artie took the road to the
left, little dreaming of the adventure that was in store for him.
CHAPTER XIV
ARTIE IS MADE A PRISONER
Life Knox had been right; the road he had taken was the correct one,
while that which Artie was pursuing was merely a side trail, joining the
main road again about a half mile beyond. The side road led up to a
plantation owned by Colonel Dick Bradner, one of the most zealous
Confederates in the State of Tennessee.
Colonel Bradner was a military man, but he was not now in active
service. In his younger days he had served in the Mexican War, and had
gained, under General Taylor, a commission as first lieutenant in the
volunteer army of that date. His military ardor had cost him his right
arm and his left leg, and, being thus crippled, further service was out
of the question.
Colonel Bradner had always been a fire eater, hot to the last degree;
and if he had had his way, war between the North and the South would
have broken out in '58 instead of '61. For a time he had drawn a
pension from the government at Washington; but this was now cut off, and
the loss made the military gentleman more bitter than ever, if such a
thing were possible.
The plantation on the side road was one of good size. In days gone by it
had flourished, and been a source of riches to the colonel and his wife,
the only members of the household. The slaves had numbered sixty-five,
all able-bodied, and all worth five hundred dollars each at the auction
block in Memphis. Now all but six of the slaves had run away, the
plantation was neglected, and what there had been of stores had been
given to the Confederate forces, simply from the fact that, had they not
been given up, friend or foe would have confiscated them as one of the
necessities of the great conflict.
Unaware that he was wrong, and likewise unaware that he was "running his
head into the lion's mouth," Artie galloped down the side trail, sending
a shower of mud up against the trees as he passed them by. Not a soul
was in sight, and it looked as if the neighborhood, for miles around,
was deserted.
Presently he reached a negro hut--the first belonging to the Bradner
plantation. The door stood wide open, the rain beating far in over the
sill. A brief survey convinced the young captain that the abode was
deserted.
"The negroes have grown scared, and run for it," he mused, as he
continued on his way. "Hullo, there's another cabin, and another. I've
struck some village, I reckon--or a plantation. If somebody would only
appear--ah!"
Through the low-hanging trees he had caught sight of the mansion,
standing between an avenue of pines. To the front was a path of sand,
and to the rear a small brook. The fields were on the other side of the
brook.
"That looks as deserted as were those cabins," thought Artie, when he
saw a woman pass hastily by one of the parlor windows. Concluding that
the men were off to the war, and that the lady was the only person left
at home, he turned up the sandy path and rode to the front porch, where
he dismounted, and used the heavy brass knocker attached to the oaken
door.
His arrival had been noticed, yet it was several minutes before anybody
answered his summons. In the meantime he heard a spirited murmur of
voices, as though two persons in the hallway were discussing the
situation.
It was Mrs. Dick Bradner who let him in,--a short, stout woman of fifty,
with piercing black eyes and jet-black hair. Her skin was as dark as
that of a mulatto, and her features were by no means prepossessing.
"Well?" she snapped, as she threw back the door.
"I stopped for a bit of information," replied Artie, as he bowed and
came into the hallway, a wide affair, running directly through to the
rear.
"What is it you wish to know?" was the short query, as snappy as her
first greeting had been.
"I am a bit mixed on the roads. There is a split about an eighth of a
mile above here, and I would like to know if this is the regular road,
or if the other road is."
"You're a Yankee officer, I take it."
"I am, madam."
"What company do you belong to?"
"I am captain of the fourth company of the Riverlawn Cavalry, of
Kentucky."
"The Riverlawns!" came in something like a gasp. "Well, I never! Dick!
Dick!"
"Well, Martha, what?" growled the colonel, from an inner room. "Send him
about his business."
"He belongs to the Riverlawns, Dick,--that cavalry--"
"Hush, Martha." There was the stumping of a wooden leg, and Colonel
Bradner appeared. "So you belong to the Riverlawns, Captain? Come in, I
would like to talk to you."
"I haven't much time to talk, sir," answered Artie. "I must be on my
way. If you will tell me about the roads--"
"In a minute, Captain, in a minute. But I would like a little
information myself--about the Riverlawns."
"Yes, we want to know all about them," put in Mrs. Bradner. "My
brother--"
"Martha, do let me do the talking," interrupted the colonel, with a
significant look behind Artie's back which the captain failed to catch.
"Walk into the sitting room, where there is a small fire. I can't go
without some fire on a damp day, even in June. The rheumatism is too
bad in my poor stumps. Come in."
The colonel led the way, and Artie followed, although the delay was not
to his taste. Yet he was curious to learn what his host wanted to know
concerning the cavalry his father (so called) commanded. Perhaps the
lady's brother belonged to one of the companies, despite the fact that
she was a Tennesseean.
The sitting room was a cheerful place, and the fire felt decidedly
comfortable, and Artie wished he was not in a hurry. Colonel Bradner
shoved a cane rocker toward him, and sank down on a lounge. Feeling that
his wet clothing would not hurt a cane rocker, Artie sat down.
"By the way, Martha, tell Joe and Sam to come in," said the colonel, in
an off-handed way. "They must clean up that cellar before the rain ruins
everything. Tell them to clean out that back pantry the first thing."
"But, Dick--"
"Never mind, my dear, tell them;" and the head of the house waved his
wife off, winking at her when Artie was not looking. The wink satisfied
the lady more than did her husband's words, and she moved off in deep
thought.
"So you belong to the Riverlawns, Captain. What company, if I may ask?"
"I am captain of the fourth company, Mr. ----"
"Excuse me, I should have introduced myself and my wife. Colonel Dick
Bradner, at your service."
"You are not in active service, Colonel," and Artie smiled faintly.
"Do I look as if I was? But I have seen service, young man, having gone
all through the Mexican War."
"Indeed! I am glad to meet you, sir. But about the Riverlawns and Mrs.
Bradner's brother--"
"I'll get there in a moment, Captain. You see I am getting old and
long-winded. I used to stump the State during election time, but I'm
getting so tiresome now nobody will listen to me."
"I am listening, Colonel. But I have a duty to perform which must be
accomplished as soon as possible."
"I reckon I need not ask what it is. It's none of my business, of course
not."
"What were you going to ask me concerning our regiment?" asked Artie,
half desperately, for he was afraid the crippled colonel would keep him
there all day.
"I wanted to ask you if your command did not take part in an engagement
at Greeger Lake, last fall?"
"We did."
"What was the result of that engagement?"
"We took about five hundred guerillas prisoners, and--"
"Guerillas! Do you dare to call our troops--Oh! pshaw, go on,--what did
you do?"
"We took about five hundred guerillas prisoners, and to keep them from
eating up our rations, marched them back into Tennessee, where they
belonged."
"And confiscated their horses and their money?"
"No, we turned their horses loose; that was all. I never heard anything
about any money," answered Artie, promptly.
He tried to appear at ease, but he was much worried. The veteran of the
Mexican War was turning out to be a strong Southern sympathizer. It
looked as if there might be trouble before he left the house.
"I understand some of the soldiers had their money taken from them. But
that was to be expected of the Yankees--they don't know what honor is."
"Colonel Bradner, I did not come here to be insulted!" exclaimed Artie,
leaping to his feet. "I have answered your questions, now I would like
you to answer mine. What about this road in front of your house? Is it
the main road, or is it not?"
"It is the main road--to my plantation."
"Then the other road is the main road?"
"Yes."
"That is all I wish to know, and I'll bid you good afternoon," replied
the young captain, and backed toward the hallway door.
"You're not going just yet, are you?" asked Colonel Bradner, with a
quizzical tone in his voice.
"I am," said Artie, and not liking that tone, he swung around, to find
himself confronted by Mrs. Bradner and two burly negroes, each of the
latter with a gun in his hands.
"Up with your hands, Captain, or Joe and Sam will blow off your head,"
commanded the cripple, and drew at the same time a pistol from his hip
pocket. The pistol was pointed at Artie's breast, while each of the guns
was aimed at the side of his head.
Artie was brave, and in some instances as rash as Deck; but there were
times when he kept his head cool, and this was one of these times. He
had both pistol and sabre in his belt, but he knew that the slightest
movement to use either of the weapons would mean to him either serious
injury or death. And he was just then of a mind to keep his skin whole.
"Do you surrender?" demanded Colonel Bradner, after a painful pause,
during which Artie had been doing a powerful lot of thinking.
"I don't see what else I can do," was the cool reply, and as he spoke,
Artie raised his hands. But he also walked to the window,--to find it
locked, and another negro standing guard outside.
"There is where you show your sense, Captain. Joe, advance and receive
the captain's sabre and his pistol."
"You spoke about what was done with the guerillas at Greeger Lake. Are
you going to rob me of my weapons?"
"No, you shall have them back,--when the proper time comes. If I let you
keep them, you might attempt to commit suicide when left alone."
"Which means that you are going to make a prisoner of me?"
"Which means exactly that, Captain. I trust you enjoy the prospect."
"I think it is a foolish movement on your part. Do you not know that
this country is overrun with Union troops, some of which are bound to
come to this place sooner or later?"
"Let them come; we do not care," burst out Mrs. Bradner. "My poor
brother's loss shall be avenged!" she added tragically.
"Did your brother belong to those guerillas?" questioned Artie, a light
breaking in on his mind.
"He was at the head of the command which participated in the unfortunate
engagement at Greeger Lake," responded the woman, tartly. "He would have
won had he not been outnumbered, four to one."
"Was your brother Major Gossley?" continued Artie.
"He was and is. His command is now with General Bragg--and will soon
help to wipe out this horde of villanous mudsills, who have entered our
State," resumed the lady of the house, grandiloquently. "Do you remember
my brother in person?"
"I remember him very well. There was a miller at Greeger Lake named
Price. He had hidden away his money, and your brother made him give it
up by threatening to hang him. The man was dragged to a tree and a rope
placed about his neck. When the Riverlawns captured the command, your
brother was compelled to give Price back his money."
At these plain words, the lady of the house grew furious. "It is a
falsehood--a base, malicious, Yankee falsehood!" she screamed. "Dick,
why don't you bind him and give him--a--a--the lash?"
"I'll bind him fast enough," answered the colonel. "After that, we'll
see what is best to be done. Joe, is there a rope handy?"
"Yes, Mars'r," answered the foremost of the negroes.
"Take it and bind the prisoner's hands behind him. Sam, keep him well
covered, and I will do the same. Between two fires, he will keep quiet
enough, I'll warrant."
Without delay, the negro Joe procured the rope and walked up behind
Artie. Resistance just then would have been foolish, and Artie's weapons
were soon taken from him, after which he was made a close prisoner. The
rope had scarcely been adjusted, when there came a loud knocking on the
front door of the house.
CHAPTER XV
GOSSLEY THE GUERILLA
"Who can that be?" asked the lady of the mansion, nervously, as the
knock was repeated.
"I will go and see," answered Colonel Bradner. He turned to the two
negroes. "See that he doesn't get away from you."
"He shan't git de chance, Mars'r," answered Joe, who had picked up his
gun again.
Arising from his couch, where he had retained his seat while covering
the young captain, the crippled advocate of the Southern cause stumped
to the door, walked out of the room, and closed the barrier behind him.
His wife accompanied him.
Artie strained his ears to catch what might be said. A hope had entered
his mind that the newcomer might be Life Knox, who had grown impatient
of waiting at the forks of the road and come in this direction to find
him. He felt certain that if it was the tall Kentuckian, there would
presently be exceedingly "warm" times about the place.
But he was doomed to disappointment. The voice was that of a man, loud,
rough, and savage, and the front door was closed with a bang. Then a
long talk followed in the hallway, and the newcomer pushed his way into
the sitting room.
"So we meet again," was the salutation Artie received, with a dark frown
from a pair of wolf-like eyes. "Reckon you didn't expect to see me quite
so soon, and under such circumstances."
"You are right,--I never expected to see you again, Major Gossley,"
replied Artie, for the newcomer was the noted leader of the guerillas
encountered at Greeger Lake.
"How does it make you feel?"
"I haven't had time enough to consider that side of the question," Artie
returned, trying to keep as calm as possible, although he realized that
the coming of the guerilla leader was a bad thing for him.
"Reckon you will realize it before I have done with you," muttered
Gossley. "Martha, has he been telling you anything about me?" he added,
turning to his sister.
[Illustration: "SO WE MEET AGAIN," WAS THE SALUTATION ARTIE RECEIVED.
_Page 190._]
"A string of falsehoods, Dan,--a string of falsehoods! Said you actually
robbed a miller,--was going to hang him because he wouldn't give up his
money," ejaculated Mrs. Bradner, exci
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