The Courier of the Ozarks
by Byron A. Dunn · English · Gutenberg #35207 · 466,161 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Courier of the Ozarks
Author: Byron A. Dunn
Illustrator: H. S. De Lay
Release date: February 7, 2011 [eBook #35207]
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COURIER OF THE OZARKS ***
Produced by David Garcia, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Kentuckiana Digital Library)
THE COURIER OF THE OZARKS
THE YOUNG MISSOURIANS SERIES
BY BYRON A. DUNN
AUTHOR OF "THE YOUNG KENTUCKIANS" SERIES
WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS
BY H. S. DeLAY
CHICAGO
A. C. McCLURG & CO.
1912
Copyright
A. C. McCLURG & CO.
1912
Published September, 1912
W. F. HALL PRINTING COMPANY, CHICAGO
_To the Loyal Men of Missouri, who as members of the militia
did so much to save the State to the Union, this book is
dedicated. History gives them scant notice, and the Federal
government has failed to reward them as they deserve._
[Illustration: "Follow the colors," he shouted.]
PREFACE
During the year 1862, after the capture of Island No. 10 and New Madrid,
no large armies operated in Missouri; but the State was the theater of a
desperate guerrilla warfare, in which nearly or quite a hundred thousand
men took part. It was a warfare the magnitude of which, at the present
time, is very little known; and its cruelty and barbarity make a bloody
page in the history of those times.
This book is a story of this warfare. It is a story of adventure, of
hair-breadth escapes, and of daring deeds. In it the same characters
figure as those in _With Lyon in Missouri_ and _The Scout of Pea Ridge_.
It tells how our young heroes were instrumental in thwarting the great
conspiracy by which the Confederate government, by sending officers into
the State, and organizing the different guerrilla bands into companies
and regiments, was in hopes of wresting the State from Federal control.
As in former books, history is closely followed.
BYRON A. DUNN.
Waukegan, Illinois.
_August, 1912._
CONTENTS
I BRUNO CARRIES A MESSAGE
II AN INTERNECINE WAR
III A MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION
IV MOORE'S MILL
V A FIGHT IN THE NIGHT
VI KIRKSVILLE
VII POINDEXTER CAPTURED
VIII LONE JACK
IX CAPTURED BY GUERRILLAS
X THE GUERRILLA'S BRIDE
XI THE STORY OF CARL MEYER
XII THE NEWS FROM CORINTH
XIII PORTER CAPTURES PALMYRA
XIV TEN LIVES FOR ONE
XV A GIRL OF THE OZARKS
XVI A WOUNDED CONFEDERATE
XVII TRAILING RED JERSEY
XVIII LIVE--I CANNOT SHOOT YOU
XIX MARK HAS A RIVAL
XX CAPTURING A TRAIN
XXI THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAINS
XXII MARK CONFESSES HIS LOVE
XXIII INTO THE LION'S MOUTH
XXIV PRAIRIE GROVE
XXV CALLED TO OTHER FIELDS
ILLUSTRATIONS
"Follow the colors," he shouted.
"Halt the advance. Ambuscade!" gasped Harry.
Down the street they rode at full speed.
"You pretend to be men and call this war?"
To catch the rider as he reeled from the saddle.
Her revolver was pointed at his breast.
He was looking into the muzzle of a revolver.
An old man leaning on a staff.
THE COURIER OF THE OZARKS
CHAPTER I
BRUNO CARRIES A MESSAGE
"Down! Bruno, down!"
These words were uttered in a guarded whisper by a boy about seventeen
years of age, to a great dog that stood by his side.
At the word of command, the dog crouched down, his whole body quivering
with excitement. His master gently patted him on the head, and
whispered, "There, there, old fellow, don't get nervous. Our lives would
not be worth much, if we were discovered."
The boy was lying full length on the ground, concealed in a dense
thicket, but from his point of vantage he had a full view of the road
which ran a few yards in front of him. This road ran north and south,
and nearly in front of where he lay another road entered it, coming in
from the west.
The cause of the dog's excitement was apparent, for coming up the road
from the west was a large body of horsemen, and a motley troop they
were. They were mostly dressed in homespun, and armed with all sorts of
weapons, from cavalry sabers to heavy knives fashioned out of files by
some rude blacksmith; the army musket, the squirrel rifle, and the
shotgun were much in evidence.
As the head of the column reached the north and south road the leader
called a halt, and looked up and down the road, as if expecting some
one. He did not have long to wait. The sound of the swift beating of
horse-hoofs was heard from the south, and soon three men came riding up.
One, a man of distinguished looks and military bearing, was a little in
advance of the other two. As he came up, the leader of the little army
saluted him awkwardly and exclaimed, "Glad to see you, Colonel. What
news?"
"Glad to see you, Captain Poindexter," replied the Colonel. "I see you
are on time. As for the news, all goes well. Within a week all Missouri
will be ablaze, and the hottest place for Yankees in all Christendom.
How many men have you, Captain?"
"About five hundred, and more coming in all the time."
"So that is Jim Poindexter, the bloody villain," muttered the boy
between his set teeth, and nervously fingering his revolver. "How I
would like to take a shot at him! But it would not do. It would be
madness."
The next question asked by the Colonel, whose name was Clay, and who had
been in the State for the past two months promoting the partisan
uprising, was, "Where is Porter?"
"At Brown's Springs. I am to join him there tonight. But he was to meet
me here with a few followers, knowing you were to be here."
"Good! I will be more than pleased to see him," answered Colonel Clay.
"But I thought he was farther north."
"Most of his force is," answered Poindexter. "But he promised to meet me
at Brown's Springs with five hundred followers. We have our eye on
Fulton. My spies report it is garrisoned by less than a hundred men.
Fulton captured, I can supply my men with both clothes and arms, and
then Jefferson City next."
"Jefferson City?" asked Colonel Clay in surprise. "Do you look that
far?"
"Yes. Thanks to the Yankee Government, there are not over five hundred
soldiers in Jefferson City. Fulton once taken, the boys will flock to
our standard by thousands, and Jefferson City will become an easy prey."
"Accomplish this, Poindexter," cried Colonel Clay, "and Missouri will be
redeemed. All over southwestern Missouri the boys are rallying and
sweeping northward. The object is to capture Independence, and then
Lexington. This done, we will once more control the Missouri River, and
the State will be anchored firmly in the Southern Confederacy. Then with
your victorious legions you can march south and help drive the Yankee
invaders from the land. Poindexter, Missouri can, and should, put fifty
thousand Confederate soldiers in the field."
Poindexter shrugged his shoulders. "Colonel, not so fast," he exclaimed.
"I could not drag my men into the regular Confederate service with a
two-inch cable. Neither do I have any hankering that way myself. The
free and easy life of a partisan ranger for me."
Colonel Clay looked disgusted. "Captain," he asked, "don't you get tired
of skulking in the brush, and waging a warfare which is really contrary
to the rules of war of civilized nations? There is little honor in such
a warfare; but think of the honor and glory that would await you if you
could free Missouri, and then help free the entire South. Why, it is not
too much to say that the star of a general might glisten on your
shoulder."
A look of rage came over the face of Poindexter. "If you don't like the
way we fight," he growled, "why are you here, urging us to rise? If we
can free this State of Yankees, we will accomplish more than your armies
down south have. We prefer to fight our own way. Here, I am a bigger man
than Jeff Davis. I fight when it suits me, and take to the brush when I
want to. If you have any thoughts of influencing me or my men to join
the regular Confederate army, you may as well give up the idea. As for
the rules of civilized warfare, I don't care that," and he snapped his
fingers contemptuously.
Colonel Clay concealed the indignation and disgust which he felt towards
the fellow, and said: "While we may not think alike, we are both working
for the same cause--the liberation of our beloved Southland from the
ruthless invasion of the Yankee hordes. If you can accomplish what you
think, surely the South will call you one of her most gallant sons.
Neither should we be too squeamish over the means used to rid ourselves
of the thieves and murderers that have overrun our fair State."
"Now you are talking," exclaimed Poindexter, with an oath. "If Porter
comes--and he should be here by now--we will discuss the situation more
thoroughly; but the first thing for us to do is to capture Fulton."
"Are you sure," asked Clay, "that your plans will not miscarry? Mr.
Daniels, one of the gentlemen here with me, informs me that that
regiment of devils, the Merrill Horse, is only a few miles to the west.
May they not interfere with your plans?"
At the mention of the Merrill Horse, Poindexter's countenance took on a
demoniac expression. Striking the pommel of his saddle with his clenched
hand, he hissed: "I will never rest until I shoot or hang every one of
that cursed regiment. But you are mistaken in thinking the force west
consists of the entire Merrill Horse. Only part of the regiment is
there; the rest is up north. The force west is about five hundred
strong. I have given out the impression that I am making for the woods
which skirt Grand River, to join Cobb. Every citizen they meet will tell
them so. Little does Colonel Shaffer, who is in command, think I have
slipped past him, McNeil believes Porter is up around Paris--the most of
his force is--but he is to join me here with a goodly number. Ah! here
he comes now."
Down the road from the north a party of horsemen were coming at a swift
gallop. They rode up, and salutations were spoken and hands shaken.
A look of passion came into the face of the watching boy, and again he
fingered his revolver. Even the dog partook of the boy's excitement, for
his whole body was quivering.
"Quiet, old boy, quiet," whispered the boy. "No doubt you would like to
tear the bloody monster to pieces, and I would give ten years of my life
for a shot, but it will not do."
The boy was now listening intently, trying to catch every word that was
said.
"Mighty glad to see you, Jo," Poindexter was saying. "How many men have
you at Brown's Springs?"
"About four hundred when I left; but squads were coming in continually.
I count on six hundred by night."
"Good! Then we will swoop down on Fulton tonight."
"Don't know about that," answered Porter. "Many of the boys have ridden,
or will ride, fifty miles to join us. Their horses will be tired.
Tomorrow will be all right. How is everything?"
"Splendid," answered Poindexter, rubbing his hands. "Not over a hundred
soldiers in Fulton. The only drawback is that there is a Yankee force of
about five hundred a few miles to the west, part of them the Merrill
Horse."
"The Merrill Horse! The Merrill Horse!" cried Porter with a dreadful
oath. "I thought they were north. They are surely giving me enough
trouble up there."
"About four companies are down here, under the command of
Lieutenant-Colonel Shaffer," answered Poindexter. "They have been trying
to find me for the past week. But they haven't found me yet," and he
chuckled. "The fact is," he continued, "I have fooled them. Shaffer
thinks I am making for the woods along the Grand River, to join Cobb. I
skipped past him last night. By this time he is making for the Grand
River as fast as he can go. No trouble from him in our little business
with Fulton."
"Don't be too sure," exclaimed Porter. "Shaffer is about as sharp as the
devil; but I trust you are right."
The conversation now took a general turn, Colonel Clay going over the
ground, telling them what was being done, and what he hoped would be
accomplished. "As for me," he said, "I must be across the river by
tomorrow. Everything depends on the movement to capture Independence and
Lexington. Then, if you gentlemen are successful here, and capture
Fulton and Jefferson City, our brightest hopes will be fulfilled. I must
now bid you good-bye. May success attend you."
The Colonel and his two friends rode back towards the south, from whence
they came. Poindexter watched them until they were out of sight, and
then, turning to Porter, said: "What do you think, Jo? The Colonel
wanted me and my men to join the regular Confederate army."
"Humph!" sniffed Porter, "I reckon you jumped at the chance."
"Not much; but he did more. He mentioned that I was not conducting this
blood-letting business strictly on the rules of genteel, scientific
murder."
"I reckon, before we indulged in a necktie party, he would want us to
say, 'Beg pardon, sir, but I am under the painful necessity of hanging
you,'" replied Porter, indulging in a coarse laugh.
"I told him," continued Poindexter, "we fought as we pleased, and asked
no favors of General Price, Jeff Davis, or any other man. As for the
Confederate service, none of it for me."
"They have offered me a colonelcy, if I take my men down into Arkansas,"
answered Porter. "If it gets too hot for me here I may go. You know
there is a price on my head. But I must go, or my boys will be getting
uneasy. Join me at the Springs as soon as possible." Thus saying, he and
his party rode away.
Poindexter ordered his men to fall in, and they followed Porter, but at
a more leisurely gait.
When the last one had disappeared, the boy arose and shook himself.
"What do you think of that, Bruno?" he asked, patting the dog's head.
The dog stood with hanging head and tail, as if ashamed he had let so
many of his enemies get away unharmed. He looked up in his master's face
and whined at the question, as much as to say, "I don't like it."
"Well, my boy, there is the Old Nick to pay. Both Porter and Poindexter
on the warpath. Fulton to be attacked, and not a hundred men to defend
it. Shaffer with the boys miles away. How are both to be warned? We must
see, old fellow, we must see. There is no time to lose."
Thus saying, the boy hurriedly made his way back through the woods where
in a hollow in the midst of a dense thicket a horse stood concealed.
Those who have read "The Scout of Pea Ridge" will readily recognize the
boy as Harry Semans, and Bruno as his celebrated trained dog. After the
battle of Pea Ridge and upon the dissolution of the company of scouts
under the command of Captain Lawrence Middleton, Harry had returned to
Missouri, and become a scout for the Merrill Horse. The Merrill Horse,
officially known as the Second Missouri Cavalry, was a regiment composed
of companies from Missouri, Illinois, and Michigan.
It can safely be said that no other regiment in the Federal army ever
saw more service in fighting guerrillas than did the Merrill Horse. From
the very first of the war their work was to help exterminate the
guerrilla bands which infested the State. The name "Merrill Horse"
became a terror to every bushwhacker and guerrilla in Missouri. No
trail was so obtuse, no thicket so dense that members of that regiment
would not track them to their lair. A true history of the Merrill Horse,
and the adventures of its different members, would read like the most
exciting fiction.
When Harry reached his horse he stood for a moment in deep thought, and
then speaking to Bruno, said: "Yes, old boy, you must do it. I know you
can, can't you?"
Bruno gave a bark and wagged his tail as if to say, "Try me."
Tearing a leaf from a blank book, Harry wrote a brief note to Colonel
Shaffer, telling him what had happened, and begging him to march with
all speed to Fulton. This note he securely fastened to Bruno's collar
and said, "Bruno, go find Colonel Shaffer and the boys. You know where
we left them. Go."
For a moment Bruno stood and looked up in his master's face, as if
undecided.
"Go and find Colonel Shaffer. Go," Harry repeated, sternly.
The dog turned and was away like a shot. Harry gazed after him until he
was out of sight, then patting the glossy neck of his horse, said, "Now,
Bess, it's you and I for Fulton; the machinations of those two
archfiends, Poindexter and Porter, must be brought to naught."
Harry believed he would have no trouble in reaching Fulton, as the
guerrillas were generally quiet near a place garrisoned by Federal
troops, therefore he took the main road, as he was desirous of reaching
Fulton as soon as he possibly could. He had not gone more than two miles
when he met two men, rough-looking fellows, whom Harry had no desire to
meet, but there was no way to avoid it, except flight, so he rode boldly
forward.
Harry was dressed in the homespun of the country, and had all the
appearance of a country bumpkin. As to arms, none were visible, but
stowed away beneath his rough jacket was a huge navy revolver, and Harry
was an adept in the use of it.
"Hello, youn' feller," cried one of the men. "Whar be yo' goin' in sich
a hurry? Halt, and give an account of yo'self."
"Goin' to Fulton, if the Yanks will let me," drawled Harry. "Whar be yo
'uns goin'?"
"That 's nun yo' business. Air yo 'un Union or Confed?"
"Which be yo'uns?"
"Look heah, young feller, nun of yo' foolin'. I reckon yo' air a Yank in
disguise. That 's a mighty fine hoss yo 'un air ridin'. 'Spose we 'uns
trade."
"'Spose we 'uns don't."
During this conversation Harry's right hand was resting beneath his
jacket, grasping the butt of his revolver.
"I reckon we 'uns will," jeered the fellow, reaching for his pistol.
Quick as a flash Harry had covered him with his revolver. Fortunately
for him, the two men were close together. "Hands up," he ordered. "A
move, a motion to draw a weapon, and one or both of you will die. It
don't pay to fool with one of Porter's men."
The hands of both went up, but one exclaimed, "One of Porter's men? Be
yo' one of Porter's men? We 'uns are on our way to join him. We 'uns
heard he was at Brown's Springs."
"Yo 'uns will find him thar. I am taking a message from him to a friend
in Fulton. Yo 'uns can lower your hands. I reckon we 'uns understand
each other now."
"We 'uns certainly do," said one of the men, as they dropped their
hands, looking foolish.
"Wall, good-bye; may see yo 'uns in Fulton tomorrow." And Harry rode
off, leaving the men sitting on their horses watching him.
"Ought to have shot both of them," muttered Harry, "but I cannot afford
to take any risks just now."
Harry had no further adventures in reaching Fulton, and at once reported
to Captain Duffield, who was in command of the post.
Captain Duffield listened to Harry's report with a troubled countenance.
"A thousand of the devils, did you say?" he asked.
"Yes, and more coming in every hour."
"And I have only eighty men," replied Duffield, bitterly. "If they
attack before I can get help, there is no hope for us."
"Colonel Shaffer is a few miles to the west with about five hundred
men," replied Harry. "If they do not attack tonight, as I do not reckon
they will from what Porter said, he may be here in time to help. I have
sent him word."
"Sent him word? By whom?" asked Outfield, eagerly.
"By my dog," and Harry explained.
As Duffield listened, his countenance fell. "I see no hope from that,"
he said. "It is preposterous to think that a dog will carry a message
for miles, and hunt up a man."
"If you knew Bruno, you would think differently," replied Harry,
smiling.
"I can put no dependence on any such thing," said Duffield. "My only
hope is getting word to Colonel Guitar, at Jefferson City. If I get any
help, it must come from him. God grant that Porter may not attack
tonight."
"I think there is little danger tonight, but they may be down in the
morning," said Harry. "Do you think Guitar can reinforce you by
morning?"
"He must; he must. I will send a message to him by courier mounted on
one of my fleetest horses."
"Bess is about as fast as they make them," replied Harry. "I know the
country. I will go if you wish."
Duffield looked at him a moment doubtfully, and then said, "You may go,
as you can tell Colonel Guitar all you have told me. But I will send one
of my own men with you."
Captain Duffield wrote two messages, giving one to Harry, and the other
to the soldier who was to accompany him.
"If you have trouble," said Captain Duffield, "for the love of Heaven,
one of you get through, if the other is killed. The safety of this post
depends on Colonel Guitar receiving the message."
"It will go through, if I live," calmly replied Harry, as he carefully
concealed the message in the lining of his coat.
To Harry's surprise, the soldier detailed to go with him proved to be a
boy, not much older than himself. He was mounted on a spirited horse and
his manner showed he was ready for any kind of an adventure, no matter
where it might lead.
The shades of night were falling when Captain Duffield bade them
good-bye, and they rode away and were soon lost to view in the dusk.
Captain Duffield stood looking after them, and then said to one of his
lieutenants, "I don't know what to make of that boy. He told a straight
story, but his thinking that dog of his would take a message to Shaffer
is a little too much to believe."
But Captain Duffield soon had other things to think about. Reports began
to come in from other sources of the gathering of the guerrillas at
Brown's Springs, and their number was augmented to two thousand. He
posted his little force in the best manner possible to resist an attack,
and with an anxious heart, watched and waited through the long hours of
the night; but to his immense relief, no attack came.
CHAPTER II
AN INTERNECINE WAR
After the battle of Pea Ridge, the Confederate Government had no regular
organized troops in Missouri. General Sterling Price, with his Missouri
regiments, which had enlisted in the Confederate service, was ordered
east of the Mississippi. But there were thousands of State troops that
had followed Price, and although they refused to enlist in the regular
Confederate service, they were, at heart, as bitter towards the Union as
ever. These men found their way back home, and although thousands of
them took the oath of allegiance to the Federal Government, the majority
of them were not only ready, but eager, to ally themselves with some of
the guerrilla bands which were infesting the State.
The Federal authorities, knowing that Price, with his army, had been
ordered east, thought that the Confederates had given up all hopes of
holding the State, and that the fighting was over, except with small
guerrilla bands, that could easily be kept in check. Therefore, the
great majority of the Federal troops in Missouri were withdrawn to swell
the armies of Buell and Grant.
The Confederates now thought they saw their opportunity. Numbers of the
Confederate officers secretly made their way into the State and
commenced to organize the disloyal forces, co-operating with the
guerrilla bands. Among these officers was Colonel Clay, who appeared in
the first chapter.
This movement was so successful that during the summer of 1862 it is
estimated that there were from thirty to forty thousand of these men
enrolled and officered. Places of rendezvous were designated, where all
were to assemble at a given signal, and, by a coup-de-main, seize all
the important points in the State which were feebly garrisoned. Then
they were to co-operate with an army moving up from Arkansas, and the
State would be redeemed.
It was a well laid plan, but fortunately it was early discovered by
General J. M. Schofield, who was in command of the Department of
Missouri. How General Schofield first received his information will be
told hereafter.
General Schofield frantically appealed to Halleck for aid, and then to
Washington, but he was answered that owing to the great military
movements going on, not a regiment could be spared.
General Schofield, thus left to his own resources, rose grandly to the
occasion. He would use the Confederates' own tactics. So he ordered the
entire militia of the State to be enrolled. Thousands of Confederate
sympathizers fled the State, or took to the bush. During the summer of
1862 between forty and fifty thousand loyal State militia were
organized. Thus the whole State became one vast armed camp, nearly forty
thousand men on a side, arrayed against each other.
It was father against son, brother against brother, neighbor against
neighbor. The only wonder is that owing to the passions of the times
there were not more excesses and murders committed than there were.
During the year 1862 there were at least one hundred and fifty
engagements fought on the soil of Missouri, in which the numbers engaged
varied from forty or fifty to five or six thousand. In these engagements
General Schofield says the Union troops were successful in nine out of
ten, and that at least three thousand guerrillas had been killed,
wounded, or taken prisoners, and that ten thousand had fled the State.
This terrible warfare between neighbors receives scant mention in
history, but in no great battles of the war was greater bravery shown,
greater heroism displayed, than in many of the minor engagements fought
in Missouri.
CHAPTER III
A MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION
In the month of May, 1862, a young Federal officer reported in St.
Louis, and found himself without a command, and without a commission.
This officer, Captain Lawrence Middleton, had greatly distinguished
himself during the first year of the war on the staff of General
Nathaniel Lyon. After the death of Lyon he was commissioned a captain by
General Fremont, and authorized to raise an independent company of
scouts. With this company he had rendered valiant service in the
campaign which ended with the battle of Pea Ridge.
Many of the acts of Fremont, and a number of commissions which he had
granted, had been repudiated by the Government, and thus Middleton had
found himself free. But he had no intention of remaining inactive, his
heart was too much in the cause. If no other field was open, he would
enlist as a private soldier. But there was no need of that, he was too
well known. Though young, scarcely more than eighteen, he had rendered
services and performed deeds which made his name known throughout the
State. He had thwarted the machinations of Frost, Price, Governor
Jackson, and other disloyal leaders in their efforts to drag Missouri
out of the Union.
While Lawrence was undecided just what to do he met Frank P. Blair, who
was overjoyed to see him. He had been Blair's private secretary during
the troublesome months before the opening of the war, and a lieutenant
in one of his regiments of Home Guards.
Blair, who had been appointed a brigadier general in the Federal army,
had been at home on business, and was about to return to his command.
"Never better pleased to see anyone in my life," said Blair, nearly
shaking Lawrence's arm off. "Oh, I've kept track of you, you've been
keeping up your reputation. But what are you doing in St. Louis? I
thought you were with Curtis."
Lawrence told Blair of his predicament,--that he was now without a
command or a commission.
"Good!" cried Blair, shaking Lawrence's hand again. "I was about to
write to Curtis to see if I could not get you away from him. I will see
that you are commissioned as captain, and I will detail you on my staff.
I need just such fellows as you."
"I couldn't ask anything better," said Lawrence, "and, General, I thank
you from the bottom of my heart. It is more than I could have possibly
hoped, more than I deserve."
"Too modest, my boy. If you had your deserts, you would be wearing a
star on your shoulder, as well as myself. I am a little selfish in
asking you to go on my staff. I want you."
So it was all arranged, and Lawrence went to see his uncle and tell him
of his new position on Blair's staff. This uncle, Alfred Middleton, was
one of the wealthiest citizens of St. Louis, and an ardent secessionist.
Now that Lawrence was out of the army, he was in hopes that he would
stay out, and he showed his disappointment in his face. He had also been
greatly worried of late. His only son was with Price, and it was a sore
spot with him that the Missouri Confederate troops had been ordered
east, and not been left to defend their native State.
In fact, the Confederates of the State felt that they had been deserted
by the Richmond Government, and bore Jeff Davis and his cabinet no great
love.
"I am sorry, Lawrence," said his uncle, sadly. "I was in hopes that as
long as you were out of the army you would stay out. Why will you
persist in fighting against those who were your friends? Your whole
interest lies with the South."
"Uncle, please do not let us discuss that question again," replied
Lawrence. "You and I are both firm in our belief, and no amount of
discussion will change either."
Mr. Middleton sighed, but did not resume the subject. That Lawrence,
whom he looked upon almost as a son, should take up arms against the
South was to him a source of endless regret.
The next two or three days were busy ones with Lawrence. The new
arrangement had one drawback, it would separate him from Dan Sherman,
who had been a lieutenant in his company of scouts, and the two were
inseparable. Dan would not hear of parting from Lawrence; he would go
with him if he had to go as his servant.
"I can never consent to that, Dan," said Lawrence. "I had rather tell
Blair I have reconsidered his proposition and cannot accept."
"You'll do no such thing," retorted Sherman. "I will try and behave
myself, but I feel that something will happen, and we will not be
separated."
Something did happen, much quicker than either one expected. Something
which entirely changed the calculations of Lawrence. It was to be some
months before he saw service with Blair.
Lawrence and Dan were passing a newspaper office, before which a large
crowd had gathered, reading the war bulletins. They told that Halleck
was tightening his lines around Corinth and that the place must soon
fall; and that McClellan was well on his way towards Richmond.
It was curious to watch the faces of those who read. The countenances of
those who were for the Union would brighten when anything was posted
favorable to the Union cause, and now and then a cheer would be given.
The iron heel of the Yankees was on St. Louis, and the Confederate
sympathizers dare not be so outspoken, but when anything favorable to
the South was posted their eyes would flash, and their countenances beam
with joy.
And thus the crowd stood and read, once friends and neighbors, but now
ready to rend each other to pieces at the first opportunity.
Lawrence mingled with the crowd, and as he read he felt a bulky envelope
thrust in his hand and caught a glimpse of a dusky arm. He glanced at
the address and then turned to see who had given it to him, but could
not. He glanced at the envelope again. Yes, it was for him. In bold
letters was written, "For Captain Lawrence Middleton. Important."
The writing was strange to Lawrence, and making his way through the
crowd he sought a private place where he could see what had so
mysteriously come into his possession. As he read, a look of surprise
came over his face, and then his countenance grew stern and grim.
Carefully he read the document through from beginning to end. It was
signed "By One Who Knows." There was not a mark to tell who was the
writer. The writing was strong and bold, and possessed an originality of
its own, as if the writer had put much of his own character in it.
Lawrence sat and pondered long. He looked the manuscript over and over
again to see if he could not discover some private mark, something that
would identify the writer, but he found nothing.
"Strange," he muttered, "but if Guilford Craig was alive I would swear
he was the writer of this. Who else would write me, and me alone, and
give such important information? Who else could obtain the information
contained in this letter? Yet Guilford is dead. Benton Shelly was seen
to shoot him. There were those who saw him lying on the ground, still in
death, his bosom drenched in blood. But his body was not found.
Guilford, Guilford, are you still alive? But why do I indulge in such
vain hope that he is alive? The proof of his death is too plain. This
letter must have been written by another, but who? Who? And why send it
to me?"
The letter was, in fact, a full and complete _expose_ of the plans of
the Confederates. It told of the conception of the plot; who was
carrying it out; of the hundreds who had taken the oath of allegiance in
order that they might work more securely, and that many had even
enlisted in the State militia, so that when the supreme time came they
could desert: the time set for the uprising was the last of July or else
the first of August, by which time they hoped to have at least forty
thousand men enrolled.
"Blair and Schofield must see this, and no time lost," said Lawrence to
himself as he placed the communication carefully in his pocket.
Blair was soon found. After carefully reading the letter he said, "I am
not surprised. I warned the Government of the folly of removing so many
troops from the State. But who could have written this?"
"If Guilford Craig was alive there would be but one answer," replied
Lawrence. "As it is, it is a mystery."
"Let us see Schofield at once," said Blair. "There should be no time
lost."
Repairing to the headquarters of General Schofield, they were readily
admitted. General Schofield was the chief of staff to General Lyon at
the time of the battle of Wilson Creek, and, of course, knew Lawrence
well. "Glad to see you, Captain," said the General. "Curtis has written
me of your good work. You are not with him now, are you?"
"No, you know the commission I held was granted by Fremont. The
authorities at Washington declared it illegal."
"Ah, there was a large number of those commissions. I must see what I
can do for you."
"I thank you, General, but General Blair has just done me the great
honor of appointing me on his staff."
"General Blair, as well as yourself, is to be congratulated," answered
the General.
Blair now spoke. "General, our business with you is very important.
Captain Middleton, please show the General the communication you
received."
Lawrence handed the General the mysterious message and Schofield read it
with a darkened brow.
"Who wrote this?" he asked, abruptly.
"General, I do not know."
"Then it may be a fake, a joke. Someone may be trying to scare us."
"General, it is no joke, the proof is too positive," replied Lawrence,
earnestly.
"That is so," answered the General. "It also confirms rumors I have been
hearing. There has been unusual activity among Southern sympathizers,
all over the State, yet outside of the guerrilla bands there have been
no hostile demonstrations. This must have been written by someone deep
in their counsels."
"General, do you remember Guilford Craig?"
"Remember him! Indeed, I do. Can I ever forget what he and you were to
Lyon?"
"If Guilford Craig had not been killed at the battle of Pea Ridge I
would be positive the communication came from him. But the handwriting
bears no resemblance to his."
"Are you certain he was killed?"
"The proof seems positive, but his body was not found," answered
Lawrence.
Schofield sat for a moment in silence, and then suddenly said to Blair,
"General Blair, I have a great favor to ask of you."
"What is it, General? Any favor I can give you will be readily granted."
"That you relinquish your claim on Captain Middleton, at least, until
this crisis is over, and let me have him."
Blair looked surprised, but no more so than Lawrence.
"You know," continued Schofield, "there is no one who can help me more
just now than Captain Middleton. No one who understands the work before
me better. This Guilford Craig, as you are aware, was a curious
character. To no one would he report but to Captain Middleton. This
_expose_, coming to Middleton, instead of to me, leads me to believe
that Craig was not killed, as supposed, but in some way got off the
field, and for reasons, known only to himself, remains in hiding.
Judging the future by the past, if he is alive, and has more information
to impart, it would be given only through the same source. For these
reasons I would like to attach Captain Middleton to my staff."
"General, your reasons are good," replied Blair, "and it shall be for
Captain Middleton to decide."
"Where I can do my country the most good, there I am willing to go,"
answered Lawrence.
So it was decided that for the summer Lawrence should remain with
General Schofield. The words of General Schofield had also given
Lawrence hope that Guilford lived. But as weeks and months passed, and
no other communication came to him, he again looked upon Guilford as
dead.
Hopeless of getting relief from the Federal Government, General
Schofield entered upon the gigantic task of organizing the militia of
the State. In this Lawrence was of the greatest service, and through a
system of spies and scouts he was enabled to keep General Schofield well
informed as to what was going on in the State.
In helping organize the militia, Lawrence had many adventures and many
hair-breadth escapes, and by his side always rode the faithful Dan
Sherman, and together they shared every danger.
By the last of July, as has been stated, there were nearly one hundred
thousand men arrayed against each other. It was a partisan warfare on a
mighty scale, and the storm was about to burst.
CHAPTER IV
MOORE'S MILL
We left Harry Semans and his young companion just starting on their
lonely ride to Jefferson City, a distance of twenty-seven miles. The
soldier with Harry proved rather a garrulous youth. He said his name was
David Harris; that he belonged to the Third Iowa Cavalry; was a farmer
boy, and rather liked the service. "It's exciting, you know," he added.
"Very much so at times," dryly answered Harry.
"Say, what makes you dress like a blamed guerrilla?" suddenly asked
Dave. "You are a soldier, aren't you?"
"I am a scout," replied Harry. "I dress like a guerrilla because I have
to pretend to be one about half the time. Just before I reached Fulton
today I passed myself off as one of Porter's men. It saved me a
dangerous encounter, perhaps my life."
"Gee! it must be exciting," said the boy. "I wish I was a scout."
"Couldn't be one," laughed Harry. "Your Yankee brogue would give you
away. I notice you say 'keow' instead of 'cow' and 'guess' instead of
'reckon.' But please don't talk any more, we must keep both ears and
eyes open."
After this they rode along in silence; that is, as much as Dave would
allow, until Harry ordered him to ride in the rear, and if he must talk,
talk to himself, and so low that no one else could hear.
For some ten miles they proceeded at a swift gallop without adventure,
meeting two or three horsemen who seemed as little desirous of making
acquaintance as they were themselves, and Dave began to think the ride
rather tame.
As they were passing a place where the bushes grew thickly by the side
of the road, they received a gruff command to halt. Instead of obeying,
Harry, as quick as thought, drew his revolver and fired, at the same
time putting spurs to his horse and shouting to Harris, "Ride for your
life."
There was a rustling in the bushes, an angry exclamation as well as a
groan. Harry's shot had gone true, and came as a surprise to the
bushwhackers as well, for two or three seconds elapsed before three or
four shots rang out, and they went wild.
"Well, how do you like it?" asked Harry, as he drew rein, considering
the danger past.
"It was so sudden," said Dave. "I think I would have halted, and asked
what was wanted."
"And got gobbled, and in all probability hanged afterwards. Dave, you
have to learn something yet before you become a scout. Always be ready
to fire at a moment's notice; and if you have to run don't tarry on your
going. I took chances as to whether there was a large party or not, but
concluded it was not, or some of them would have been in the road."
"Did you think of all that? Why, the word 'Halt' was hardly out of the
fellow's mouth when you fired."
"Think quickly, act quickly; it has saved my bacon many a time. You
ought to have been with me when I was with Captain Lawrence Middleton.
There is the fellow to ride with. But this wouldn't have happened if
Bruno had been with me."
"Bruno? Who is Bruno?" asked Dave.
"Bruno is my dog. He would have smelled those fellows out before we were
within forty rods of them. I am never afraid of a surprise when Bruno is
with me. But no more talking now."
Once more their horses took up a swinging gallop, and they met with no
further adventures, and within less than three hours from the time they
started they were halted by the Union pickets who guarded the approach
to the river opposite Jefferson City.
Harry demanded of the Lieutenant in command of the picket that they be
ferried across the river without loss of time, but the Lieutenant
demurred, saying it was against orders to allow anyone to cross the
river during the night.
"I have important dispatches from Captain Duffield to Colonel Guitar.
Refuse to take me over, and I would not give much for your command,"
angrily answered Harry.
"Who are you?" demanded the Lieutenant. "From your dress you are
certainly not a soldier."
"I am Harry Semans, scout for the Merrill Horse," answered Harry.
"At the name 'Merrill Horse' the Lieutenant became as meek as a lamb.
"Excuse me," he exclaimed. "I will see that you get over the river
immediately. Anything new at Fulton?"
"Porter and Poindexter are within eleven miles of the place, and
Duffield expects to be attacked by morning."
The Lieutenant gave a low whistle. "The devil," he ejaculated, and
rushed to give the necessary orders.
It was eleven o'clock before the river was crossed and the headquarters
of Colonel Guitar reached. He had just retired, but Harry and Dave were
without ceremony admitted into his bedroom. The Colonel read the
dispatch of Captain Duffield, sitting on his bed in his nightclothes.
At once all was excitement. There were but five hundred men guarding the
important post of Jefferson City. Of this force, Colonel Guitar ordered
one hundred to accompany him to Fulton. He dared not deplete the little
garrison more.
While Harry and Dave were in the Colonel's bedroom, Harry noticed that
Dave was regarding Guitar with a great deal of interest. When they
passed out Dave said to Harry in a whisper, "That general don't amount
to shucks. Think of him fighting Porter?"
"Why, what's the matter with Guitar?" asked Harry.
"Matter! He wears a nightgown just like a woman. Who ever heard of a man
wearing a nightgown?"[1]
[Footnote 1: A true incident.]
Harry exploded with laughter. "Many men wear nightgowns," he explained.
"I have no doubt but what General Schofield does. I reckon you will find
out that Guitar will fight."
During the day there had been two important arrivals in Jefferson City,
that of Lawrence Middleton and Dan Sherman. They had told Colonel Guitar
of the rapid concentration of the guerrilla bands all through the
counties north of the river, and had warned him to be on the lookout for
trouble. In fact, they had brought orders from General Schofield for him
to send two of his companies to Columbia, as it was thought that was the
place in greatest danger.
Lawrence and Dan were told of the danger that threatened Fulton, and
they determined to accompany Guitar in his expedition.
It was not until they were on the ferryboat crossing the river that
Harry was aware that Lawrence and Dan were of the number. He nearly went
wild on seeing them.
"And how is Bruno?" asked Lawrence.
"Bruno is all right. I sent him with a dispatch to Colonel Shaffer."
Hurry as fast as they could, it was long past midnight before the force
was across the river, and then there was a twenty-seven mile ride ahead
of them.
On the march Harry had an opportunity to tell Lawrence much that had
happened to him since they parted.
It was daylight when Fulton was reached, and, much to their relief, the
place had not been attacked, but the excitement ran high. Rumor had
increased Porter's force to two thousand. Colonel Guitar believed this
estimate to be much too high. So, small as his force was, only one
hundred and eighty, he determined to move out and attack Porter without
delay.
When this became known to the few Union inhabitants of Fulton they
implored Guitar not to do it. "Your force will be annihilated," they
exclaimed, "and Fulton will be at the mercy of the foe."
Lawrence agreed with Colonel Guitar. "We came here in the night," said
he. "Porter does not know how many men you brought. No doubt your force
is magnified, the same as his. Assuming the offensive will disconcert
him, and also prevent him receiving further reinforcements."
So it was decided, and the little force took up the march for Brown's
Springs, eleven miles away. Couriers were dispatched to find Colonel
Shaffer, for even if Bruno had succeeded in delivering Harry's message
Shaffer would march for Fulton instead of Brown's Springs.
It was about eleven o'clock when the column reached the vicinity of
Brown's Springs. Nothing as yet had been heard from Colonel Shaffer, but
Guitar determined to attack. Lawrence had been asked by Guitar to act as
his aid, to which he gladly assented.
Two or three small parties of guerrillas had been sighted, but they took
to the brush at the sight of the Federals.
The command now moved cautiously forward, but there was to be no battle.
Harry, who had been scouting in front, returned with the news that the
guerrillas had fled. Their camp was soon occupied. Everything showed a
rapid flight; even the would-be dinner of the guerrillas was found half
cooked.
Along in the afternoon Porter's force was located near Moore's Mill,
about four miles distant.
As Colonel Guitar's men had not slept a wink the night before, and as
both men and horses were tired out, the Colonel decided to camp, rest
his men and await the coming of Shaffer.
Why Porter fled from Brown's Springs and yet gave battle the next day,
after Shaffer had come up, will never be known. If he had fought at
Brown's Springs he would have had five men to Guitar's one. He may have
thought Shaffer was miles away. What Poindexter had told him would lead
him to believe this. And it would have been the case had it not been for
Harry and the faithful Bruno.
Every precaution was taken by Colonel Guitar to guard against a night
attack, but his little army was allowed to rest in peace.
During the night the couriers sent out to locate Shaffer reported. Bruno
had done his work well, but Shaffer had been miles farther away than
thought, and as had been requested by Harry in his report, had marched
for Fulton. He was yet ten miles away, and it would be impossible for
him to join Guitar before morning.
The morning came and with it Shaffer, and with him five hundred and
fifty men, eager for the combat. How Guitar's men did cheer when they
saw Shaffer coming.
Scouts reported that Porter still occupied his camp, and showed no sign
of moving. It looked as if he had resolved to stay and fight. Colonel
Guitar gave the order to move forward and attack. The advance had to be
carefully made, for the country was rough, wooded, and covered with a
dense undergrowth of bushes.
Harry now had Bruno with him, and leaving his horse, he, with the dog,
made his way to the front, in order to discover, as far as possible, the
plans and position of the enemy. So dense was the undergrowth he could
not see thirty feet ahead of him, but Bruno, as stealthy as a tiger in
the jungle, crept through the bushes ahead of him and more than once
gave him warning to turn aside his steps and take another direction. At
last he came to quite a hill, on the summit of which grew a tree with
branches close to the ground. Leaving Bruno to guard, Harry climbed the
tree, and to his satisfaction had a good view of the country. But what
he saw filled him with consternation.
The road on which the Federals were marching was narrow and on each side
lined with dense underbrush. Ahead of the Federal advance, the road
itself was clear, not a guerrilla in sight, but Porter had left his camp
and all his forces were stealthily creeping through the woods, and
concealing themselves in the bushes which lined the road.
Harry knew that that meant an ambuscade, and the Federal advance was
almost into it. In his eagerness he hardly knew whether he fell, jumped,
or swung himself down by the branches, but he was out of the tree and
tearing through the brush like a mad man to give warning.
He came to the road just as Colonel Guitar came along, riding at the
head of his column, the advance, consisting of twenty-five men of
Company E, Third Iowa Cavalry, being a short distance ahead.
"Halt the advance. Ambuscade," gasped Harry. He could say no more, as he
fell from exhaustion.
[Illustration: "Halt the advance. Ambuscade," gasped Harry.]
Guitar understood. "Halt," he cried, and to an aid, "Warn the advance."
The aid put spurs to his horse, but he was too late. Before he could
give warning there came a crashing volley from the jungle on the east
side of the road, the thicket burst into flame and smoke. It was an
awful, a murderous volley. Out of the twenty-five men who composed the
advance, hardly a man or horse escaped unscathed; all were killed or
wounded.
Swift and terrible as this blow was, it created no panic in Guitar's
little army. The road was narrow, thickets on each side. Nothing could
be done with cavalry. Quickly the order was given to dismount and send
the horses back in charge of every fourth man. Guitar then formed his
slender line in the edge of the thicket on the west side of the road,
with orders to hold until Shaffer came up, for Shaffer was still behind.
Hearing the sound of the conflict, Shaffer rushed forward, sent back his
horses, and along the road and through the tangled undergrowth the line
was formed and the battle became general.
The guerrillas displayed a bravery they seldom showed when engaged with
regular troops, and fought with determination and ferocity. They had the
advantage in position and numbers, but Guitar had the advantage in
having a couple of pieces of artillery. One of these pieces was brought
up by hand and planted in the road where it could sweep the woods in
which the guerrillas were concealed.
Hidden from view, the guerrillas crept up near, poured in a murderous
volley, and then raising a blood-curdling yell, dashed for the gun. Four
of the gunners had fallen before the volley, and for the time the gun
was silent. But behind the piece lay a line of sturdy cavalrymen. They
waited until the guerrillas had burst from the thicket and were within
forty feet of the gun, then sprang to their feet and poured a terrific
volley almost into the faces of the foe.
Staggering and bleeding, the guerrillas shrank back into the woods, but
only to rally and with fearful yells dash for the gun again. This time
they were not met by the cavalrymen alone, but the cannon belched forth
its deadly charge of canister in their faces.
When the four gunners fell at the first charge, Dan Sherman, seeing that
the piece was not manned, rushed forward and snatched the primer from
the dead hand of the man who was about to insert it when he fell. Dan
inserted the primer, pulled the lanyard and sent the contents of the gun
into the ranks of the enemy. Two of the artillerymen who had not been
injured came to his assistance, and again the gun was thundering forth
its defiance.
Through the chaparral Shaffer's men now pushed their way foot by foot.
It was a strange conflict. So dense was the undergrowth the line could
not be followed by the eye for thirty feet. No foe could be seen, but
the thickets blazed and smoked, and the leaden hail swept through the
bushes, tearing and mangling them as if enraged at their resistance.
The duty of Lawrence was a dangerous one. He had to break his way
through the thickets, see that some kind of a line was kept, and that
orders were being executed. While the men were sheltered by trees, logs
and rocks, he had to be exposed, but as if possessed of a charmed life,
he passed through unscathed.
Foot by foot the Federals dragged themselves forward, slowly pressing
the guerrillas back. At last, tired of fighting an unseen foe, the men
arose to their feet, and with a wild cheer sprang forward. Surprised,
the foe wavered, then broke. The flight became a panic, and they fled
terror-stricken from the field. The battle of Moore's Mill had been
fought and won.
There was no pursuit that night. The day had been intensely hot, and the
battle had raged from twelve noon until four. The soldiers, with
blackened, swollen faces and tongues, were fainting with thirst. Colonel
Guitar ordered his men to occupy the camp deserted by the foe. The dead
were to be buried, the wounded cared for.
So precipitously had the guerrillas fled that except the severely
wounded, few prisoners were taken. Porter had impressed upon his men
that to be captured by the Yankees meant certain death.
While searching the field Lawrence noticed some white object crawling
along like a large reptile. Upon investigation he found to his surprise
that it was a man, and entirely nude.
"Why are you without clothes?" asked Lawrence.
The man looked tip into Lawrence's face with a scared expression and
whined, "The guerrillas captured me, and they stripped me of my
clothing."
"Then you are a Federal soldier?" inquired Lawrence.
"Y-e-s," came the halting answer.
"You lie," exclaimed Lawrence. "You are one of the guerrillas."
The fellow then broke down, and, piteously begging for his life, said he
was one of Porter's men, and that he looked for nothing but death if
captured, so he had divested himself of his clothing, hoping to pass
himself off as a Federal.[2]
[Footnote 2: A true incident of the battle.]
Lawrence ordered him to be tenderly cared for, and tears of gratitude
ran down the fellow's face when he realised he was not to be murdered.
The battle of Moore's Mill, insignificant as it was compared to the
great battles of the war, was important in this: It frustrated the plans
of the conspirators, and was the beginning of a series of conflicts
which forever ended the hopes of the Confederates to recapture the State
by an uprising.
Colonel Guitar reported his loss in the battle as thirteen killed and
fifty-five wounded. The guerrilla loss he reported at fifty-two left
dead on the field and one hundred and twenty-five wounded.
In all the partisan battles in Missouri the guerrillas never reported
their losses, and only the reports of the Federal commanders are
accessible. In many cases no doubt these reports are exaggerated.
CHAPTER V
A FIGHT IN THE NIGHT
Early the next morning Colonel Guitar started in pursuit of the enemy.
Lawrence took the advance with a party of six men. As a matter of
course, Harry and Bruno made a part of this force.
"This seems like old times, Harry," said Lawrence, as they started off.
"It does that, Captain," replied Harry. "You, Dan, Bruno and myself make
four of the old gang. Now if only Guilford was with us--" He stopped and
sighed. His mind had gone back to the time when he and Guilford had so
nearly faced death in among the Boston mountains. "You have heard
nothing of him, have you, Captain?"
"Nothing. I did receive a communication about two months ago that I
thought might be from him; but I have received nothing since and I have
given up all hopes."
The trail left by the guerrillas was very plain. It followed the
Auxvasse for some two miles, and then turned off into the hills. The
country was very rough, the places for an ambuscade numerous, but with
Bruno scouting, Lawrence had no fears of being surprised.
Soon they came to a place where the road forked. On the road that led to
the left up the Auxvasse the trail was plainly marked; but the road that
led on into the more open country had little appearance of being
traveled; but it was rocky, and by being careful a large force could
have passed over it and left but few traces behind.
Harry dismounted and carefully examined the ground. As for Bruno, he
seemed to have no doubt; he was taking the blind trail.
"A blind," said Harry. "Not more than fifty took to the left, and they
left as broad a trail as possible. The main force passed up the other
road. If Guitar follows the broad trail it will lead him away among the
hills and then disappear, for the party will separate."
Just then the advance of Guitar's force appeared, led by a young
lieutenant.
"What are you waiting for?" he asked Lawrence. "Have you discovered the
enemy?"
"No, but Porter evidently divided his forces here, and we were
discussing which road the main body took."
The Lieutenant dismounted, and after looking over the ground, said,
"Why, it's as plain as the nose on a man's face; they went to the left."
"Harry and Bruno both think differently," answered Lawrence.
The Lieutenant sniffed. "Much they know about it," he exclaimed. "I have
trailed too many guerrillas to be mistaken."
Just then Colonel Guitar, at the head of his column, appeared. He was
appealed to, and after examining the road, decided to take the left hand
road, but told Lawrence he might keep on the other road with his scouts,
and see what he could discover. As a matter of precaution he increased
Lawrence's force to ten men.
The Lieutenant rode off highly elated over the fact that Colonel Guitar
agreed with his views.
"Let them go," sputtered Harry. "They will be disgusted before night."
And so it proved. The trail led Guitar over hills, through ravines and
rocky dells, through tangled forests, and twisted and turned, until it
disappeared entirely; and, much to his disgust, Guitar found himself
along in the afternoon within two miles from where he had started. The
wily guerrilla chieftain had fooled him completely. Guitar led his mad,
weary and swearing force back to the old camp grounds, and there awaited
the return of Lawrence and his scouting party.
Lawrence did not think for a moment but that Harry was right, and that
fact soon became evident. They were now in a more open country, and the
signs that a large body of troops had passed became numerous. Not only
this, but in the houses along the road they found a number of severely
wounded that the guerrillas had been forced to leave.
After some miles they came to a road that crossed the one they were on,
and which led to the west. Here the ground had been much trampled, and
that but a short time before.
Again Harry dismounted and examined the ground carefully. "We are close
onto them," he said. "I do not believe they have been gone half an
hour."
"Harry, you are a regular Kit Carson for trails," laughed Lawrence. "Are
you sure you are right?"
"Perfectly, and what is more, their force divided here, but the larger
force kept on. The explanation is plain. Porter operates to the north
and east, so he has kept on with the larger force; Poindexter and Cobb
have their chief haunts along the Chariton and Grand, so with their
forces they have gone to the west."
"We had better hurry back to Guitar and tell him this," exclaimed
Lawrence.
"No," snapped Harry. "I don't propose to be snubbed again. You only have
my word now. Let's keep on until you and everyone present have proof
that cannot be doubted."
"I believe you are right, Harry," said Lawrence, and he gave the command
to continue on.
They had proceeded a mile when Bruno came running back, showing by his
manner he had news to impart.
Halting his squad, Lawrence dismounted, and taking Harry, they carefully
made their way to the brow of a hill which lay in front. Cautiously
peering over, they saw about a quarter of a mile ahead a commodious
house, around which a number of horses were hitched.
It was evident that they had come on the rear guard of the retreating
guerrillas, and that they had halted to rest, and were being well
entertained, for a number of black women were passing back and forth
from the house to a rude outdoor kitchen, all bearing dishes, and it
looked very tempting to Lawrence and Harry.
"Feel like eating myself," whispered Harry. "I didn't know I was so
hungry."
"How many do you reckon there are?" asked Lawrence.
Harry carefully counted the horses and then said, "Not over fifteen or
twenty. I can count only fifteen horses, but there may be some out of
sight."
"Feel like appropriating that dinner myself," said Lawrence.
"The boys would never forgive us if we didn't," answered Harry.
Hurrying back they explained the situation, and by unanimous vote it was
decided to make a charge on that dinner without loss of time.
"Harry and I will ride a little ahead," said Lawrence. "Harry is dressed
in homespun and my uniform is so dusty they won't be able to distinguish
its color until we are close to them. Dan, when I give the signal, come
on in a rush."
So Lawrence find Harry rode ahead, the squad some fifteen or twenty
paces in the rear, leisurely following. Scarcely had they rode over the
brow of the hill when two sentinels they had not seen before suddenly
showed themselves on the road. The sentinels seemed much alarmed, and
drew up their carbines as if to shoot.
Harry waved his hat and signaled they were friends. Seeing the squad
coming so leisurely and the two in advance, the sentinels lowered their
guns and waited, thinking it must be some of their own men. But when
Lawrence and Harry were a few yards from them one of the sentinels
caught the color of Lawrence's uniform.
Giving a terrific whoop, he raised his gun and fired, the ball just
missing Lawrence's head. The other sentinel fired, but his shot went
wild. Both wheeled their horses and dashed back, yelling, "Yanks! Yanks!
Yanks!"
There was no need of Lawrence signaling Dan to come on, for the squad
were urging their horses to the limit.
The guerrillas at dinner heard the firing and came pouring out of the
house. Close on the heels of the flying sentinels thundered the
Federals. The guerrillas took one look, and with cries of terror sprang
for their horses, and cutting the halter straps were up and away. By
this time the balls were falling among them thick and fast, killing two,
and the horse of a third one fell and the rider was taken prisoner.
The fight was over and Lawrence rode up to the house, and was met on the
porch by a white haired, fine looking old gentleman.
"Sorry to trouble you," said Lawrence, urbanely, "but with your
permission I will have my men finish that dinner that your friends have
so ungraciously and suddenly declined."
"Step right in, suh, the dinner is waiting," the old gentleman replied
with a wan smile, "but my guests are not accustomed to invite
themselves."
"Sorry, sir, but when you consider the improvement in the character of
your guests, you should rejoice," rejoined Lawrence. "Entertaining such
guests as have run away is dangerous."
"I shall feed no Yankees," cried a shrill voice, and a young lady
flounced out of the door, her face red with anger.
Lawrence saw that she was good to look at, tall, willowy and fair of
face. Taking off his hat and bowing politely, he said, "My dear lady, I
humbly beg your pardon, but my men must certainly finish that dinner you
so kindly prepared for those who were so impolite and cowardly as to run
away and leave it. It would take more than Rebel bullets to make me
decline a meal prepared by your fair hands."
The compliment was lost. "Cowardly?" cried the girl. "Is it cowardly for
twenty to flee before a regiment of Yankee cut-throats?"
"There are only a dozen of us," said Lawrence, "and a dozen finer
gentlemen you never entertained, every one a prince and as brave as a
lion. If it were not so, twenty of your friends would not have fled from
them."
The young lady flashed a look of scorn at him and cried, "Yankee
cut-throats and robbers--gentlemen and brave! You amaze me." She
abruptly turned and went into the house, and much to Lawrence's regret
he did not see her again.
"You must excuse my daughter," said the old man, nervously.
"That's all right, so we get the dinner," answered Lawrence. "Don't you
see my men are getting impatient?"
"Come right in. I feed you, not because I want to, but because I must."
Thus speaking, he led them into the house, where they found a sumptuous
repast but partly eaten; and not a man in the squad but did full justice
to it.
Lawrence found the prisoner they had taken shaking with terror, for some
of the men had coolly informed him that after dinner he was to be
hanged.
Lawrence was about to reprimand the men for their cruel joke, when it
occurred to him he might use the fellow's fears to some advantage. So he
told him if he would tell all he knew, not only would his life be
spared, but that he would be paroled, but he would have to be careful
and tell nothing but the truth.
The prisoner eagerly embraced the opportunity, and confirmed what Harry
had said. He moreover stated that before Porter and Poindexter parted
they had agreed to gather up all the men they could, and join forces
again somewhere along the line of the Hannibal and St. Joseph Railroad.
"I guess that is straight enough for Guitar to believe, instead of that
upstart lieutenant," said Harry.
Back to find Guitar the scouts rode; but it was night when they found
him and then nearly where they had left him. All day his men had marched
beneath a broiling sun, and when they found out how they had been led
astray, against the protests of Harry, they wanted to lynch the smart
lieutenant; and it was a long time before the poor fellow heard the last
of it.
Colonel Guitar concluded to rest his men until morning, and then
continue the pursuit. "I will chase Porter clear to the Iowa line, if
necessary, to catch him," he said.
While it was arranged that Colonel Guitar should march straight for
Mexico, Lawrence, with a detail of ten men dressed as guerrillas, was to
follow directly on the trail of Porter, thus keeping track of his
movements. Lawrence chose ten of the Merrill Horse to go with him.
One of the men in looking over the squad and noticing that with
Lawrence, Dan, and Harry there were thirteen of them, demurred, saying
that another man should be added, as thirteen was an unlucky number. "No
thirteen for me," he said.
"Step aside," ordered Lawrence. "I want no thirteen cranks. I, for one,
am not troubled over the old superstition of thirteen. Who will
volunteer to take this fellow's place?"
A dozen were eager to go, and Lawrence chose a manly looking fellow.
"Our timid friend here counted wrong," he said. "He forgot Bruno, and he
is equal to a dozen men."
This raised a laugh, and the party started in the highest spirits. After
going a short distance, Lawrence halted and made his men a short speech.
"Boys," he said, "dressed as we are, it will be certain death if we are
captured. If circumstances arise where we must fight, fight to the
death--never surrender. We are strong enough to beat off any small
party, and large ones we must avoid. But remember, our object is to get
information, not to fight. To all appearances we must be simon-pure
guerrillas. If we meet with guerrillas, as no doubt we will, keep cool,
and let Harry or me do the talking."
"All right, Captain," they shouted, and they rode merrily forward,
careless of what dangers they might meet. So often had they faced death,
they considered him an old acquaintance.
They found little trouble in following the trail of Porter. Taken for
guerrillas, every Southern sympathizer was eager to give them all the
information possible.
For two days they traveled, frequently meeting with small parties of
guerrillas, and to these Lawrence always represented they belonged south
of the river, and had been obliged to cross to avoid a large party of
Federals, and that they had concluded to keep on and join Porter.
By questioning, Lawrence found all of these parties had orders to join
Porter at or near Paris. Some of these parties gave Lawrence a good deal
of trouble by wanting to join forces with him, but he put them off by
saying it would be safer to travel in small parties, as they would not
then be so liable to attract the attention of the Federals.
Porter in his flight had crossed the North Missouri Railroad near
Montgomery City, but in his haste did little damage.
It was after Lawrence had crossed this railroad that he had his first
serious trouble. Here he came onto a company of at least fifty
guerrillas under the command of Bill Duncan, a leader who often acted
with Porter, and as noted for cruelty as he. The company was hastening
to join Porter at Paris.
Lawrence thought it best to change his story. Duncan had roughly ordered
him to join his company. This Lawrence firmly refused, saying they
belonged to Poindexter's command; that after Poindexter and Porter had
parted, Poindexter had found it impossible for him to join Porter, as he
had promised, and that he had been sent post-haste by Poindexter to find
Porter and inform him of the fact.
"But now," said Lawrence, "I need go no farther, as you can carry this
information to Porter."
"Where are you going if I do this?" asked Duncan.
"Back to join Poindexter, as I promised," said Lawrence.
"I don't know but you are all right," said Duncan; "but I don't like the
looks of your men. What did you say your name was?"
"I haven't told you, but it is Jack Hilton. Porter knows me well. Give
him my respects. Be sure and tell him what I have told you, for it is
very important. Good-day, Captain. Come on, boys," and Lawrence turned
and rode back the way he had come.
Duncan watched them until they were out of sight; then, shaking his
head, said: "I almost wish I hadn't let them go, but I reckon they're
all right. That young chap in command told a mighty straight story."
About this time Lawrence was saying: "That was a mighty close shave,
Dan. That fellow had a big notion to make trouble."
Bruno, who had been told to keep out of sight, joined them after they
had gone some distance. He acted dejected and dispirited, and if he
could have talked would have asked the meaning of it all. Time and time
again he had given warning of the approach of guerrillas, only to have
his master meet them as friends. He had given notice of the approach of
Duncan's party, and to his surprise nothing had come of it. He was a
thoroughly disgusted dog, and walked along with drooping head and tail;
but it only took a word from Harry to set him all right again.
"We must turn north again at the first opportunity," said Lawrence.
"This will put us back several miles."
They had not gone far before they met a solitary guerrilla. He was one
of Duncan's party, and had gone out of his way to visit a friend. He was
halted, and explained who he was.
"Ah, yes," said Lawrence; "your company is just ahead. We left it only a
few moments ago."
"Whar be yo' goin'?" asked the fellow.
"Back to join Poindexter, where we belong. I was carrying a message to
Porter from Poindexter, but on meeting Duncan I gave it to him, so we
are on our way back."
The fellow had sharp eyes, and Lawrence noticed that he was scrutinizing
his party closely, and when he saw Harry, who had been a little in the
rear, and just now came up, he started perceptibly, but quickly
recovered himself, and exclaimed, "I must be goin'." Putting spurs to
his horse, he rode rapidly away.
Harry gazed on his retreating figure, his brow wrinkled in perplexity.
Suddenly he cried: "Captain, I know that fellow, and I believe he
recognized me. If he did, we are going to have trouble."
"Are you sure?" asked Lawrence, startled.
"Quite sure. I arrested him near Paris a couple of months ago, and he
gave his parole. I had hard work to keep Bruno from throttling him.
Where is Bruno?"
"There he comes now," said Lawrence, "and he seems to be greatly
excited."
Bruno was indeed greatly excited, and he ran around Harry, growling, and
then in the direction the fellow had taken, looking back to see if Harry
was following.
"Bruno knows him, too," said Harry. "He never forgets. If that fellow
saw Bruno, it is indeed all up. He will tell Duncan, and we will have a
fight on our hands as sure as fate."
"By hard riding we can reach Mexico and avoid the fight," said Lawrence;
"but I don't like the idea of running away."
"Nor I," said Harry. "Even if the fellow knew me, Duncan may not follow
us."
"What do you think, Dan?" asked Lawrence.
Dan took a chew of tobacco, as he always did when about to decide
anything weighty, and then slowly remarked: "Don't like to run until I
see something to run from."
"That's it," cried Lawrence. "It is doubtful if Duncan follows us at
all. If he does, it will be time enough to think of running."
It was therefore decided to take the first road they came to which led
in the direction they wished to go. They soon came to the road, but
before they turned into it, Lawrence took the precaution to make it
appear that they had ridden straight on.
"Reckon Bruno and I will hang near this corner for a while," said Harry.
"I want to make sure whether we are followed or not. I feel in my bones
Duncan is after us."
Harry had good reasons for feeling as he did, for the guerrilla whose
name was Josh Hicks, had not only recognized him, but he had also seen
Bruno, and he bore the dog an undying hatred, for it was he who had
captured him, and would have killed him had not Harry interfered.
No sooner was Hicks out of sight of the scouts than he put his horse to
the utmost speed. "I have an account to settle with that dawg and his
master," he muttered, "and it will be settled tonight or my name is not
Josh Hicks."
He overtook Duncan's command, his horse covered with foam.
"Hello, Josh, what's up?" asked some of the men, as he dashed up. "Yo'
un acts as if the Merrill Hoss was after yo'. What has skeered yo'?"
"Whar is Bill?" Hicks fairly shrieked.
"Up in front. What's the matter?" and the men began to look uneasy.
Seeing the excitement in the rear, Duncan came riding back. "What's the
trouble?" he asked, gruffly.
"Don't know," answered one of the men, "but Josh Hicks has jest come up,
his hoss covered with foam, and he seems mighty skeered about
something."
Just then Hicks caught sight of Duncan, and yelled: "Bill, did yo' un
meet a party of about a dozen men a few minutes ago?"
"Yes; what of it?"
"An' yo'un had them and let them go?" fairly screamed Hicks.
"Of course; they were Poindexter's men."
"Poindexter's men! Hell!" Hicks shouted. "They was Yanks in disguise,
an' one of them was that damned boy scout of the Merrill Hoss. I know
him, and I saw the dawg."
"Be you sure, Josh?" asked Duncan.
"Sure? Of course I'm sure. Don't I know the boy, and don't I know the
dawg? Can I forgit the brute that had his teeth in my throat? Oh, yo' un
be a nice one, yo' un be, Bill, to let them fellers slip through your
fingers!"
Duncan flushed with anger and chagrin. "Look here, Josh," he roared,
"none of your insinuations, or you settle with me. I never met that
feller, and if you had been with us, as you ought to have been, instead
of gallivanting around the country, you would have known them. Them
fellers told a straight story, they did; but they'll never fool Bill
Duncan but once. About face, boys."
In a moment more the guerrillas were thundering on the trail of the
scouts. They had little difficulty until they came to the road where
Lawrence had turned off. Here Duncan carefully examined the ground, and
with the almost unerring instinct of his class, decided rightly as to
the way the scouts had gone.
Harry had taken a position about half a mile from where the road turned,
and where he had a good view without being seen. He saw the guerrillas
stop and hesitate, and then take the right road.
"They are after us, sure," he muttered, and, spurring his horse, he did
not pull rein until he had overtaken the scouts.
"They are close after us!" he exclaimed, pulling up his panting horse.
"It will soon be dark; we can elude them," said Lawrence.
"Let's fight them," said Dan, taking out his plug of tobacco and holding
it until a decision was made.
"Yes, let's fight them," said the men. "This is the tamest scout we've
ever been on--hobnobbing with the villains instead of fighting them."
"All right," replied Lawrence. "Let's ride rapidly ahead until dark.
Dan, you and I must think up a bit of strategy in the meantime."
"All right," said Dan, biting off a big chew from the plug he was
holding, and restoring the rest to his pocket. If the decision had been
against a fight, Dan would have put the plug back without taking a chew.
When Dan put his tobacco back unbitten, it was always an infallible sign
that something had gone in a way that did not suit him.
That Lawrence and Dan had fixed up that bit of strategy was evident, for
just as darkness was closing in, Lawrence ordered the scouts to stop
long enough to gather a good feed of corn for their horses, from a
near-by field. Then they rode on and camped in a wood, some little
distance from the road.
"The guerrillas will not now attack us until some time in the night," he
said, "thinking to surprise us."
He gave orders for the horses to be tethered a little distance in the
rear of the camp, where they would be sheltered. "Hitch them so you can
loose them in a twinkling, if it becomes necessary," he ordered.
Then he told the men they might build a fire, make some coffee, and
roast some corn, if they wished.
"Had we not better dig a hole for the fire, and screen it with
blankets?" suggested one of the men. "A light might give us away."
"Just what I want it to do," answered Lawrence, to the astonishment of
all but Dan and Harry.
Lawrence then explained to his men his plan: "The guerrillas will attack
us some time during the night, thinking to surprise us. I want the
surprise the other way. Therefore I propose to camp as if we were
unconscious of danger. The fire is to be left, not too bright, but
smouldering enough to give a little light. Each man of you is to prepare
a dummy. A log with a blanket around it will do. These will be placed in
a row a short distance from the fire. In the dim light they will look
exactly like a row of sleeping men. Last of all, we will fix a dummy
sentinel, leaning against a tree as if asleep.
"We will all lie down a little to one side in the bush. Then, when the
guerrillas charge on the supposed sleeping camp, give it to them. If
things go wrong, each man make for his horse, and get away the best he
can. Make for Mexico."
These instructions were obeyed implicitly, and soon the camp was buried
in apparent slumber.
To make sure they were right, the guerrillas had inquired at the first
house they passed, and were told that a small party of men had passed
but a short time before.
"We are on the right track, boys," exclaimed Duncan, gleefully, "and if
they don't take the alarm and dodge us in the dark, they are ours. We
must not press them too closely. Let them go into camp, and we will get
them when they are asleep."
Just as darkness began to fall, Duncan became fearful that the scouts
would not halt, but keep on for Mexico, and he gave orders to gallop,
but concluded to stop at the first house and inquire. He did so, and an
old man came to the door, and in answer to his inquiry replied that a
party whom he supposed to be guerrillas passed just before dark.
"Confound them!" he exclaimed, "they stopped at my cornfield and
gathered a good feed for their horses, and never said even 'Thank you.'
They are camped in the woods about half a mile ahead, for I saw the
gleam of the campfire. I am going down in the morning, and see if I
can't collect for that corn."
"We will collect it for you," chuckled Duncan, "and while we are about
it we will collect enough to pay for a feed for our horses. There are
sixty or seventy of us. Them fellers are not our men; they are Yanks."
"Good land!" exclaimed the old fellow.
"Don't worry--we'll collect for that corn, all right," said Duncan.
The guerrillas waited until ten o'clock, then approached the wood as
near as they dared, and Duncan sent two of his men ahead to spy upon the
camp. They were gone so long that Duncan began to be impatient, but at
last they returned, and their report was all that could be wished.
"We almost crept on them before we discovered them," said one. "The
fools do not seem suspicious of any danger. They have but one man on
guard, and sure as shooting he is leaning against a tree, sound asleep.
It will be no trick to send them to the devil as they sleep."
"And to the devil we will send them," growled Duncan. "Understand, no
quarter."
"The dawg? Didn't you see the dawg?" asked Hicks, anxiously.
"That dawg seems to trouble you, Hicks," sneered one of the men.
"He would trouble yo' un if yo' un had had the experience I have,"
retorted Hicks. "I tell you I don't like it. Them Yanks seem too blame
careless. It ain't like them. An' that dawg--didn't he make no fuss when
yo' un crept up?"
"Not a bit. If thar was any dawg, he must have been asleep, too."
"I tell yo' un I don't like it. Thar is something wrong. That dawg----"
"Shut up," commanded Duncan. "Josh, if you are afraid of a dawg, stay
with the hosses. Some of the boys will have to stay, and there is not
one, unless it is you, but wants a hand in this job."
"Yes, stay, Josh, stay!" jeered the men. "Josh is getting skeery. He is
afraid of a dawg."
"Stay nothin'!" snorted Josh, mad as a hornet. "An' if any of yo' uns
insinuates I am afraid, yo' uns will have to settle with Josh Hicks, an'
that mighty quick."
"No quarrelling, boys," commanded Duncan. "Josh is all right. Don't want
to stay with the hosses, Josh?"
"Not by a thundering sight."
"All right, Josh, we will give you the first crack at that boy, the
owner of the dawg, to settle old scores."
They were to creep up on the scouts and kill them as they slept. If an
alarm was given, they were to rush on them and make quick work of it.
Slowly the guerrillas worked their way through the wood, as noiselessly
and stealthily as Indians. By the dim light of the campfire they saw
what they supposed were the sleeping forms of their enemies. The
sentinel stood leaning against a tree, his head on his breast,
apparently sound asleep.
The sentinel was right in front of Josh Hicks. He drew a huge knife, his
eyes gleaming with hate and cruelty. Nearer and nearer he crept, then
sprang forward and buried his knife in the bosom of the supposed man,
but instead of striking flesh and bone, he struck a log of wood, and so
fierce was the blow he could not withdraw the knife.
As he struck there was a hoarse growl, a huge form shot through the air,
and the teeth of Bruno were buried in his throat. He gave a
blood-curdling yell, which died away in a sickening gurgle.
The guerrillas, thinking themselves discovered, rushed upon the sleeping
forms. As they came into the light, the woods to the right and left
burst into flame. Men reeled and, clutching the air, fell. The wood
resounded with horrid curses, groans, and yells of terror.
Firing a random volley, those that lived turned and fled, pursued by the
scouts. The battle was soon over. A full third of the attacking force
lay on the ground, dead or grievously wounded. But of all the dead,
there was none so ghastly as Josh Hicks. He lay with his throat torn in
shreds, and on his face there was still a look of mortal terror.
The next morning, when the guerrillas came creeping back to bury their
dead and care for the wounded, a feeling of superstitious awe crept over
them when they saw the body of Josh Hicks.
"That dawg--that dawg!" they whispered. "Poor Josh! He must have had a
presentiment."
From that time on Bruno was to them an uncanny beast, in league with
evil spirits.
CHAPTER VI
KIRKSVILLE
No sooner had the affrighted cries of the guerrillas died away, than
Lawrence, calling back his men, said: "We must now be up and away. By
morning the guerrillas will be over their fright, and we will be
surrounded. Let the dead and wounded lie, though make the wounded as
comfortable as possible. It will not be long before some of their
comrades will be creeping back to care for them."
To Lawrence's delight, he found that not a single one of his men had
been harmed. In the highest of spirits, the men mounted their horses and
rode away.
All night they rode and, when morning came, they halted by a field of
corn, and once more gave their horses a fine feed, while the men made
coffee and feasted on roasting ears.
"Boys, which shall it be--Mexico or Paris?" asked Lawrence. "From what
we learned from Duncan, it is the intention of Porter to unite all his
force near Paris, and then move north. Guitar must be in Mexico by this
time, but there will be no fighting there. No doubt he will keep on to
Paris."
"To Paris!" shouted the men. "Let's go where the fighting will be. Our
horses are quite fresh. We can be there by night."
"What if we run into Porter and his whole gang?" asked Lawrence,
smiling.
"Lick the whole gang!" they yelled.
"You're all right, boys, but I hardly think you can do that; at least,
we won't try as long as I'm leader," laughed Lawrence.
The day was hot and the roads dusty, and Lawrence favored the horses all
possible, but they made good progress. Taken for guerrillas by the
inhabitants, they fared well, and much information was given them.
Much to Lawrence's surprise, he learned that Porter had taken and sacked
Paris the day before, and that McNeil had moved down from Palmyra and
driven him out. More serious still was the news that Porter had been
reinforced, and had attacked and expected to recapture the place.
This was news, indeed. If true, Porter was squarely between them and
Paris. A consultation was held, and it was the unanimous opinion that
they should keep on and join McNeil, if they could.
As they neared Paris, they heard firing, and became aware a slight
skirmish was in progress. They halted, and while debating what best to
do, a couple of guerrillas came riding towards them.
"Who be yo' un?" they asked of Lawrence, as they rode up.
"We 'uns are from Galloway County, on our way to join Porter," answered
Lawrence. "I heah fightin'. What is it?"
"Oh, a few of us are only amusing the Yanks while Porter gits away,"
said the men.
"Then Porter is not heah?"
"No; he an' most of his men air miles north by this time. He left about
a hundred of us here to make believe we 'uns ware goin' to attack Paris,
so to give him time to git away. Thar, yo' uns don't hear any shooting
now. The boys have amused the Yanks as long as they wanted to, and now
air on their way to jine Porter, and bet your life the Yanks don't catch
them."
"What are you doing here, away from your command?" asked Lawrence,
sternly.
The guerrillas started at the change in the speech and manner of
Lawrence. "We 'uns," they stammered, "we 'uns live about five miles
back, and we 'uns was goin' to see the folks. We 'uns can easily
overtake the boys by riding all night."
A sign from Lawrence, and, to the amazement of the guerrillas, they were
looking into the muzzles of revolvers.
"It's all up with you, fellows," said Lawrence. "We are Yanks. Boys,
disarm them."
The guerrillas' faces were as white as chalk, and they began to beg for
their lives. They had only just joined Porter, they declared, and they
were sick of it already. They had never molested a Union man. In fact,
they had told a lie--they were deserting, instead of going to visit
their families, as they said.
"If that is the case," said Lawrence, "you will readily give us all the
information you can. No doubt Colonel McNeil will be pleased to see you;
so come along."
It was as the prisoners had said--the guerrillas had gone, and Lawrence
had no trouble in riding into Paris, where he was gladly welcomed by
McNeil, who had been in fear he was being attacked by an overwhelming
force. It was welcome news that Lawrence brought, that Colonel Guitar
was in Mexico by this time, with five hundred good men; but that Porter
was retreating north, was a big surprise to McNeil.
"He must have at least a thousand men," said McNeil. "I thought he would
stay and fight this time, sure. I see we will have to chase the fox."
During the night the advance of Colonel Guitar's column came in. Guitar
had been taken sick at Mexico, but had sent forward five hundred men
under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Shaffer.
McNeil, his force now augmented by Shaffer's, resolved to push Porter to
the limit, and if possible bring him to battle.
A pursuit now commenced which lasted a week--a pursuit that every
soldier that was present will always remember. Men grew haggard for want
of sleep; horses staggered under the weight of their riders, and then
fell dying by the side of the road. Across prairies and streams, through
woods and tangled thickets, over rocky hills, almost inaccessible, the
pursuit led. By every art known to the wily Porter did he try to mislead
his pursuers; but they hung on to his trail like grim death.
More than once would the pursuers have been at fault had it not been for
Lawrence and his little band of scouts. Hanging on to the flank and at
times almost ahead of Porter, they were enabled to keep McNeil well
posted as to the movements of his foes.
More than once did the faithful Bruno keep the scouts from falling into
ambuscades, and more than once shots were fired at him by the vengeful
guerrillas. But Bruno had become as cunning and wary as a fox in keeping
out of danger. It was but a glimpse the guerrillas could get at him as
he stole through the woods.
"What now, Bruno? What's the matter?" asked Lawrence one day, as the dog
came rushing back in the greatest excitement. The scouts were in
advance, and had been following the trail through a rough and broken
country.
The dog gave a short bark, and looked to the front, as if to say, "Look
out--trouble ahead."
Lawrence gave the order to halt, and told Harry and another of the
company to dismount and steal carefully through the woods, and see what
they could discover. They did so, and soon came to a stream. The bridge
that spanned it had, to Harry's astonishment, been only partially
destroyed; it could easily be crossed. This looked suspicious. The other
bank of the stream was covered by a thick growth of bushes. Their leaves
rustled gently as they were touched by the breeze, and that was all.
There was no sign of life. Bruno, as he looked across the stream, gave a
low, menacing growl, and his eyes shone like two coals of fire. The
road, after crossing the bridge, was narrow, and ran between two hills,
both thickly wooded.
"There's something over there in the bushes," whispered Harry. "We'd
better go back and report to the Captain."
They did so.
"We'll wait until some of the command come up," said Lawrence.
They had not long to wait. A company of Merrill Horse that was leading
the advance came in sight. To the Captain in command Lawrence explained
his fear of an ambuscade in front. The company was halted, the men
dismounted, and a skirmish line formed. The men were instructed to work
their way carefully to the bank of the stream, but not to show
themselves.
"I see nothing alarming over there," said the Captain of the company, as
he swept the other side of the stream with his glass.
"There is something," said Lawrence. "I have just seen a bush tremble
more than if stirred by the wind. That half-destroyed bridge is but a
trap."
By this time more of the troop had come up, and had been halted. With
them were a couple of pieces of artillery.
"We are losing valuable time," grumbled the Captain. "We'd better ride
on, before McNeil gives us thunder."
"Not if I can prevent it," said Lawrence. "Bring up that artillery."
The two pieces were brought as close to the river as they could without
being seen. The horses were then unhitched, and the pieces run forward
by hand, so that a few yards more would bring them into view, and in a
position where they could sweep the bushes on both sides of the road
across the stream.
"Load with canister," ordered Lawrence. "When all is ready, I will order
a volley fired across the river into the bushes. Wait for the returning
volley, for I am sure it will come; then run up your pieces and sweep
both sides of the road."
The skirmishers crept carefully forward, and at the word poured a volley
into the bushes across the stream. The effect was electrical. The bushes
seemed to burst into smoke and flame, and then came a crashing volley in
return. Quick as thought, the two cannon were run forward and a storm of
canister swept the bushes. There were howls of rage, curses and groans,
and the guerrillas were in wild flight.
With cheers the men ran back, mounted their horses and started in
pursuit, thinking the time had come for them to annihilate Porter and
his gang.
Porter had planned well. A short distance from the bridge the road
passed through a narrow, rocky defile, and this was so obstructed that
it took two hours to remove the obstructions so the command could pass
through. Porter had left his horses on the other side of the
obstruction, so when his men broke all they had to do was to make their
way to their horses.
Porter did not try any more ambuscades. His only thought was to elude
his pursuers and get away. He came nearly doing it, and for a day McNeil
was in doubt as to which way he had gone--to the northwest or the north.
It was Lawrence and his scouts who brought the news. His report was:
"Porter crossed the Hannibal and St. Joseph Railroad last night at
Shelbina. He is said to be making for Kirksville, where he expects to be
joined by the guerrilla bands of northwestern Missouri. His force is
estimated at two thousand, which, I think, is an overestimate, but as he
goes north, it is hourly increasing."
"I don't care whether he has two thousand or five thousand; I am going
to catch him and make him fight," said McNeil, grimly. The pursuit was
once more taken up, the column headed for Kirksville.
There is only one county in Missouri north of the county in which
Kirksville is situated. It was as far north as Porter could hope to go
without being surrounded by enemies. Full of hope that he would be
forced to give battle at Kirksville, McNeil pressed on.
So rapid was the pursuit that McNeil, as he neared Kirksville, could not
bring over five hundred men into action. His trains and his men with
broken-down horses had been left behind. All along the route Porter's
force had been reported as fully three thousand, but three thousand did
not alarm McNeil, who had faith in his little army.
As the Federals approached Kirksville, Lawrence, who had been scouting,
reported that Kirksville had been occupied by Porter, and that he had
expelled the entire inhabitants of the place. His horses he had
concealed in the brush west of the town.
"These facts," said Lawrence, "I have learned from the three prisoners I
have here."
McNeil questioned the prisoners, but they were surly and would say
nothing. The facts that Lawrence had learned were told him when they
believed him to be one of their number. When undeceived and told to
surrender, their surprise was only equalled by their chagrin.
In bringing them back, Lawrence noticed one of the prisoners stealthily
throw away some papers. They were secured and found to be a parole and
an oath of allegiance to the National Government.
"I'm sorry," said Lawrence, "but this fact must be reported to Colonel
McNeil."[3]
[Footnote 3: This prisoner and fifteen others were afterwards executed
by McNeil for the breaking of their paroles.]
It was a beautiful August morning when McNeil's little army reached the
outskirts of the village of Kirksville. To all appearances, they gazed
upon a deserted town. If the angel of death had passed over the place
and had smitten every man, woman and child, it could not have been more
silent, death-like. The hot sun beat down upon the streets and houses,
but awoke no life. The stillness was unearthly, appalling. What did it
mean?
"Can it be that Porter has slipped away without our knowing it?" asked
McNeil.
"Impossible," answered Lawrence. "The whole guerrilla force is concealed
in the stores and houses. They are hoping we will think the place
unoccupied; then as we ride through the streets they can open fire and
slaughter us without mercy."
"How can we find out where they are?" asked McNeil, rather anxiously.
Lawrence thought a moment, and then said: "Colonel, give me a few men
and I will make a dash down the main street, and around the square. If
they are hidden, we will surely draw their fire, and thus reveal their
position."
McNeil looked at Lawrence in amazement. "Do you mean it?" he asked.
"I certainly do."
"Why, it would mean almost certain death--suicide."
"I am willing to try."
McNeil thought a moment and then said: "Captain, you must not do it. If
you were one of my officers, I might consent; but with you it is
different. You are on special duty from General Schofield. It is true
you have acted as one of my aids, and as leader of my scouts, for which
I am grateful. But for you to lead such a forlorn hope, I cannot--will
not--permit such a sacrifice on your part."
Colonel Shaffer, of the Merrill Horse, who had been present during the
conversation, now said: "Colonel, you are right. To permit Captain
Middleton to do what he proposes would be a reflection on our command;
especially would I consider it so on the Merrill Horse. I will make a
detail, and lead the forlorn hope myself."
"No, you will not," cried three or four officers of his regiment, who
had come up in time to hear his proposal. "Our Colonel leading as
desperate an undertaking as that, and we looking on! Why, every mother's
son of us should be shot for cowardice. Detail one of us."
Shaffer looked upon his officers with pride. "It is just what I might
have expected," he exclaimed, his voice trembling. "Lieutenant Coudrey,
you spoke first. You may go if you wish; but mind, I don't order you."
Coudrey saluted and said: "Colonel, I thank you. I need no order."
"How many men will you need, Lieutenant?" asked Shaffer.
"Eight, I think, will be enough. I do not wish to expose more than
necessary."
Lieutenant Coudrey returned to his company, explained to them what was
to be done, and added: "Not one that comes with me may ever come back. I
want eight volunteers."
He looked up and down the line. For a moment there was not a sound. The
men gazed into each others' faces blankly; and then, as if by common
impulse, the whole company rode forward.
"God bless you, my men, my brave boys! I might have known it, but I
cannot take you all. The first eight will do. That will save me choosing
man by man."
History tells of great charges. Pickett's charge at Gettysburg, and
Hood's at Franklin, will live as long as American history is written;
but history tells nothing of these small affairs. Yet who will say that
Lieutenant Coudrey and his eight men did not perform a braver deed than
do men who, in the heat of battle, rush up to the mouth of the cannon?
It is the individual bravery, the scout and the skirmish, which make the
romance of war.
All was ready, and as they started a thousand eyes followed them, and
with bated breath their comrades watched them as they rode. Each carried
a heavy revolver, that they might return the fire they would receive.
Down the street they rode at full speed, but not a shot was fired; the
town lay still as dead. They reached the square. "Is it possible----"
exclaimed McNeil, but his speech was cut short. As the little squad
turned to ride around the square, flashes of fire and little clouds of
smoke burst from doors and windows of stores and houses. The village had
suddenly come to life.
[Illustration: Down the street they rode at full speed.]
From their revolvers Coudrey and his men returned the fire as they rode.
A horse goes down, then another. A man throws up his arms and tumbles
headlong, but those that live dash on. The circuit is made, the hell of
fire passed through, and the enemy is located.
Coudrey, his face blackened with smoke, and his eyes blazing with the
light of battle, came riding back. His hand was grasped by both McNeil
and Shaffer. Neither could speak for a moment, and then they could only
gasp: "Thank God!"
Strange as it may seem, Lieutenant Coudrey had passed through the fiery
ordeal unscathed; but of the eight men who rode with him, two were
killed, three more wounded, and five of the eight horses lay dead.
The position of the enemy uncovered, McNeil dismounted his force, and
the battle was opened. From house to house the men forced their way, and
at the end of two hours the enemy were in full flight. The artillery of
the Federals played an important part in the action, and did much
towards turning the victory. Porter had at least three or four men to
one in this action, but his force was poorly disciplined, and stood
little show against the seasoned veterans of McNeil.[4]
[Footnote 4: Colonel McNeil reports his loss in this action as
twenty-eight killed and sixty wounded. He estimates the loss of the
guerrillas as one hundred and fifty killed, three hundred wounded and
forty-seven prisoners. Horses captured, one hundred and fifty.]
The routed guerrillas took refuge in the timber which skirted the
Chariton, but early the next morning the Merrill Horse was after them.
The next day Porter was caught at Stockton and completely routed, losing
nearly a hundred men. Porter himself barely escaped, but with a few
followers he made his way back to his old haunts, and a couple of months
later was the cause of one of the most lamentable tragedies enacted in
Missouri during the war.
CHAPTER VII
POINDEXTER CAPTURED
Hundreds of the guerrillas who had been with Porter worked their way
south to join Poindexter, and that chieftain found himself at the head
of a force of from a thousand to fifteen hundred men. That part of
Porter's force that had joined Poindexter had been closely followed by a
portion of McNeil's force, among them a hundred of the Merrill Horse.
With them came Lawrence and Harry with Bruno.
When they reached Mexico, Lawrence found a dispatch waiting him from
General Schofield, which filled him with amazement. It stated that he
had received a communication, apparently from the same hand that had
sent the first communication to him (Lawrence), in May, which revealed
the plot of the partisan uprising. This communication stated that a
large body of troops was moving up from Arkansas to cooeperate with the
guerrillas, the object being to capture Independence and Lexington, and
that the movement was a month later than expected, but now it was well
under way.
"I am not satisfied," wrote General Schofield, "with the way the
officers in that district are meeting the emergency, and I want you to
go there immediately and report to me the full situation."
Lawrence reluctantly bade Harry and Bruno good-bye, and he and Dan
started for their new field of work, where we will leave them for a
time, and follow the adventures of Harry.
Poindexter and Cobb had now come back into the territory that was
commanded by Colonel Guitar. That officer had fully recovered from his
sickness, and, hastily collecting a force of five hundred men, he
started in pursuit of Poindexter.
Harry and his dog were now so well known that Guitar placed him in
command of a small body of scouts. They were dressed as guerrillas, and
they certainly looked and acted the part.
Poindexter had expected to join Porter in his retreat north, at or near
Kirksville, but he had been attacked and driven back by a force under
General Ben Loan, thus preventing the union which Porter and Poindexter
had planned.
Poindexter was now hiding in the woods and thickets along the Chariton,
and numerous guerrilla bands were flocking to his standard.
It was Colonel Guitar's business to find him and scatter his forces
before they became too strong; and to find him Guitar could employ no
better means than Harry and Bruno.
For his companions, Harry had chosen five boys, ranging in age from
eighteen to twenty, all native Missourians, skilled in woodcraft,
accustomed to firearms, and all burning to avenge themselves on the
guerrillas, for all had suffered terrible wrongs at their hands.
Just as Harry was about to start on his scout, a boy by the name of Jack
Harwood came to him and begged to be allowed to be one of the party. He
was about eighteen years of age, of slender build, but as wiry and
active as a cat. His face bore a rather sad expression, for his father
had been shot down in cold blood by some of Porter's gang; the house had
been burned over his mother's head, and she had died a few days later
from shock and exposure. Fortunately for Jack, he was not at home at the
time, or he would have shared his father's fate.
Jack buried his mother, bade farewell to his ruined home, and enlisted.
He seemed never to tire, and was never as happy as when he was hunting
guerrillas. He was brave to recklessness, and early in the service had
been promoted to a sergeantcy in his company.
Harry looked him over and told him he would see what he could do. The
eyes of the boy glowed with a fierce flame as he told Harry of his
wrongs. It was so much like his own story that Harry's heart went out
towards him.
Colonel Guitar readily granted Harry's request that Harwood might be
added to his force, and so Harry found himself at the head of six young,
adventuresome and daring scouts.
Harry's orders were to locate Poindexter, but keep in touch with the
column as much as possible.
No sooner were they away from the command than Harry halted and said:
"Boys, I must make you acquainted with Bruno, so he may make no
mistake."
The great dog was called, and he came and stood before his master,
wagging his tail and looking up in his eyes, as if to say, "What is it?"
"Bruno, this is Jack Harwood. He is all right."
Bruno smelled Jack, gave a short yelp and, lifting one of his paws,
offered it to him. The boy shook it with wonder and delight.
Bruno was then introduced to each of the scouts, and they seemed to pass
muster, for to each one he offered his paw.
"Good," exclaimed Harry. "Bruno will now know any one of you among
thousands, and you will find him the most valuable member of the squad."
Harry rode to the northwest, for he knew it was in that direction
Poindexter was rallying his forces. The country through which they
passed seemed to be terror-stricken. But few men were seen, and they
were old. The women gazed at them with scared eyes as they passed, and
little children would run and hide, or peer at them around the corners
of the houses with frightened faces.
To questions asked, both men and women were noncommittal. They knew
nothing. They were the first guerrillas they had seen for days. As for
Yankee soldiers, they knew of none nearer than the towns where they were
garrisoned.
Towards evening Bruno gave warning of foes ahead. Soon a party of ten
men rode in sight, manifestly guerrillas.
"Let me do the talking, boys," Harry said, "but be sure and sanction
everything I say; and be ready to fight at the word, if necessary. For
your life, don't let them get the drop on you. At the first suspicious
action, draw and fire."
The scouts did not seem loath to have a little skirmish. They loosened
the revolvers in their holsters, and remarked they were ready.
"Bruno," said Harry, "I don't want them to see you. Go and hide, and
don't come till I whistle."
The dog slunk into the woods that grew along the road, and in a
twinkling was out of sight. The scouts marvelled. "Why, he is human,"
said one.
"Almost, but not quite, about some things," answered Harry.
The band of guerrillas had seen them, and halted, and were scanning them
carefully, as if debating whether to advance or not.
"They seem to be a little afraid," laughed Harry. "Let's ride leisurely
forward, as if satisfied."
As they approached, the guerrillas made a movement as if to raise their
guns, but evidently thought better of it, and sat still to await their
coming, but with hands on the butts of their revolvers.
"Hello, boys; whar yo' uns goin'?" called out Harry, as he came up. "The
way yo' uns act, yo' uns must think we' uns air Yanks."
"Who be yo' uns, an' whar be yo' uns goin'?" the leader asked, scowling.
"We' uns? We' uns air from Franklin County. We' uns was a little too
close to St. Louis to be healthy for sich fellers as we' uns, so we
reckoned we' uns would come over and join Poindexter. Do yo' uns know
whar we' uns can find him?"
"Don't know an' don't care," growled the leader. "Yo' uns had better
come with we' uns. Had enough of stand-up fightin'! We' uns was with
Porter at Kirksville, and got hell kicked out of us."
Harry now learned that they were a part of Porter's band; that after his
last defeat Porter had advised his men to break into small parties and
make their way back to their old haunts, where they could rally if he
needed them. They could be nice, peaceable citizens until he wanted them
again. It was more fun harassing and robbing Union men and surprising
small parties of Yanks than it was to face the enemy in an open battle.
"I tell yo' uns," added the leader, shrugging his shoulders, "it's no
fun facing them rotten balls. They skeer a feller."
"Why didn't yo' uns lick 'em?" asked Harry.
"Lick 'em? Say, young feller, Did yo' un ever face the Merrill Hoss?"
"No; but the boys heah reckon they would like to have the chance."
"Ha! ha!" laughed the guerrillas. "Wall, go on and join Poindexter, an'
yo' uns may have a chance. See how you like it after the Merrill Hoss
gits a whack at yo' uns," and, laughing and jesting, they rode on.
When the guerrillas were first met, Jack Harwood gave a start of
surprise, and a look of fierce passion swept over his face. He suddenly
pulled his slouch hat down so as to hide his features, turned and kept
as far away as he could without exciting suspicion.
When the guerrillas had gone, he rode up to Harry, his eyes blazing, and
his whole body trembling with suppressed excitement.
"I know two of those fellows," he exclaimed, "They were with the gang
that murdered father. One of them was the one that fired the house.
Mother knew them. There were six of them, and I know every one. I have
sworn to get the whole six, and I will if I live."
The look of hatred on his face made Harry shiver, but he knew how he
felt; so had he felt when he saw his father lying dead before him.
"I had all I could do to keep from shooting them while they were talking
to you," continued Jack. "It makes me feel like a coward to let such a
chance go."
"It would have been madness, Jack. Then, we are not out to fight if we
can avoid it, but to get information. Never let your passion lead you to
do a foolish thing."
Jack said no more, but fell back in the rear.
It was almost night, and Harry decided to go into camp, as he had not
learned the exact whereabouts of Poindexter.
Suddenly some one asked, "Where is Jack Harwood?"
Harry looked. He was nowhere to be seen.
"Does any one know anything about him?" he asked, anxiously.
One of the men said: "Jack stopped just after the guerrillas left us. He
said the girth of his saddle was loose, and he would have to fix it. I
thought no more about him, and as I have been riding in front, I did not
notice he was not with us."
Could Jack have been captured by lurking guerrillas? They would go back
and see. It would not do to leave a comrade in peril. If Jack had been
captured, Bruno would have little trouble in following the trail. It was
not more than two miles back to the place where the soldier had seen
Jack dismount to fix his saddle girth, but there was no sign of a
struggle there; no evidence that any guerrilla had been lying in ambush.
But by the side of the road there were tracks of where a horse had been
turned and ridden back.
"By heavens!" exclaimed one of the men, "Jack has deserted. Don't you
remember one of those guerrillas said they lived in Ralls County?--and
Jack is from Ralls."
The other men began to swear. "If we ever catch him," they muttered,
with clenched fists.
"Hold on, boys," ejaculated Harry; "Jack has not deserted, but he has
gone, and gone alone, on one of the maddest adventures that ever single
man set out to do."
Then he told them of what Jack had said, and added: "No doubt he has
gone back to try and get those men."
"Let's go back and try to help him!" exclaimed the squad in unison.
Harry shook his head. "No, boys," he said; "and if you wish to continue
with me, you must promise me that you will not leave under any
conditions whatever, without my consent. We are soldiers. We are under
orders, and those orders are to find Poindexter. To try and find Jack
would lead us we know not where, and bring the whole object of our scout
to naught."
The men saw, and turned back; but with heavy hearts, for their thoughts
were with Jack.
The scouts went into camp not far from a substantial farmhouse, and the
occupants were a little more communicative than common, especially when
Harry told them to set up a good meal for them, and he would pay for it,
saying they had captured some Yankee money.
Their mouths being open, Harry found they had a son with Poindexter, and
he had left home only that morning. They had heard the son say
Poindexter was preparing to attack some place. They thought it was
Columbia, but were not sure.
Harry made his camp in the edge of a wood, a field in front. A rough
road ran through the wood, a short distance in the rear. If danger came,
it would be by that road that Harry calculated to retreat. They were to
rest till three o'clock, then up and away. Harry knew that with Bruno on
guard there would be no surprise, but he could not rest. He was thinking
of Jack Harwood.
About eleven o'clock, to Harry's surprise, Harwood made his appearance.
"If it hadn't been for Bruno," he said, "I would never have found you.
He met me down the road a ways, and guided me here."
"Where have you been?" asked Harry.
"Where have I been?" he answered, slowly. "On private business. I will
tell you about it in the morning."
"You must promise never again to leave without permission, or this is
your last scout with me," said Harry, sternly.
Jack did not answer. He turned to care for his horse.
When Jack stopped, under the pretence of fixing the girth of his saddle,
it was with the fixed purpose, come what would, of following those
guerrillas and killing the men who had helped murder his father. Had he
not taken a solemn oath to kill them on sight? He did not stop to think
how he could accomplish his purpose--of the danger of the undertaking.
He only knew he had seen the men; that was enough. He would track them,
if necessary, to the ends of the earth. As it was, fate favored him.
The guerrillas, all unconscious that Nemesis was on their track, rode on
until dusk, when they stopped at a fine plantation, and roughly ordered
supper and feed for their horses.
Mr. Rice, the owner of the plantation, was a hot Southern sympathizer,
but he did not relish his present company. He felt like kicking them out
of doors, but he knew it would not do to refuse them, so he made the
best of it, and ordered supper prepared.
It was a good supper, and, in the highest of spirits, nine of the
guerrillas sat down; the tenth was on guard. But he did not notice a
silent figure creeping up to the window of the room in which the rest
were dining.
Suddenly there was a sharp report, a crash of glass, and one of the
diners sprang to his feet and fell backward, shot through the brain. At
the same time a voice rang through the room. "Remember Thomas Harwood,
Number One. Let the other five beware!"
At the sound of the shot and the fall of their comrade, the other
guerrillas sat as if stunned for a moment; then with cries of terror
they rushed from the house, thinking a Yankee force was on them; but a
single shot, and excited cries from the sentinel, were all that they
heard.
Before the attack, the sentinel had seen or heard nothing, but
afterwards he had caught a glimpse of a dim figure fleeing up the road.
He had fired, but there was no response to his shot.
When told what the voice had said, he turned pale and trembled. "My
God!" he exclaimed, "it must have been Jack Harwood, Tom Harwood's son.
There were six of us who put a quietus on that old Abolitionist. I heard
the boy took a terrible oath he would never rest until he got the whole
six. After that we lay for the boy, but he gave us the slip and went in
the Yankee army. So, poor Ben is done for. He was one of the six. My
being on guard is all that saved me. But whar did the boy come from? How
did he know we' uns was heah?"
This question greatly puzzled the guerrillas, until one of them spoke:
"I reckon them seven fellers we' uns met was Yanks. That Harwood boy
must have been one of them. He saw you two fellers, and follered we' uns
heah, and got poor Ben."
"Boys, I'll never feel easy as long as Jack Harwood lives," said the one
who had escaped. "That boy is a devil. That's nine of us--only seven of
them. Let's turn back and take them by surprise. We' uns can shoot them
up."
It was agreed to, and so the guerrillas turned back.
After the return of Jack, Harry had lain down for a time, but could not
sleep. He knew something had happened, but could not imagine what it
was. Surely, Jack had not engaged the guerrillas single-handed. But he
would have to wait until morning to know. Just as he was sinking into
sleep, Bruno caught him by the shoulder and shook him. He was on his
feet in a second.
Everything seemed quiet, and the guard said he had heard nothing, but
Bruno showed by his actions everything was not right.
"Arouse the boys," said Harry; "something is in the wind."
The scouts were aroused, but nothing could be discovered. Everything
seemed quiet and asleep.
"Jeffreys," said Harry to one of the men, "creep down towards the house
and see if any mischief is going on down there. Be careful; keep in the
shadow of the fence, and get back as quickly as possible."
Jeffreys was gone nearly half an hour and Harry was beginning to get
alarmed, when he came back. He had a startling story to tell. He had
crept up nearly to the house and found the yard full of men and horses.
The nine guerrillas had come back and stopped at the house to make
inquiries.
"The villain who lives there," continued Jeffreys, "told them all about
where we were camped and the best way to surprise us. They were making
arrangements to creep up on us when I thought it time to come back. I
heard them talk of some one of our number who had killed one of their
men. What did they mean?"
"Never mind now," answered Harry. "Let's get ready to give them a warm
reception. We know just how many there are, and they are the ones who
will be surprised."
It was a warm reception they got. Harry let them come almost up to them
before he gave the signal to fire. First the carbines, then the
revolver, had been his order.
In a minute all was over. Stunned by the reception they received, those
who had not been killed or wounded beat a hasty retreat. Investigation
showed three of the guerrillas dead and three more desperately wounded.
The wounded were carried to the farmhouse to be cared for.
Among the dead was the one who had stood guard. Jack gazed at him a
moment in silence and then muttered, "Number Two, but who killed him?"
Jack now told Harry how he had followed the guerrillas and shot one.
Harry listened in silence and then said, "Jack, I know how you feel. I
once felt the same way, until Captain Middleton taught me better. He
says this is a war of principles, not against individuals. That it is
simply murder to kill for private wrongs."
"Wrong to kill guerrillas?" asked Jack in surprise.
"Yes, the way you did. In killing Ben Storms you had no idea of aiding
the great cause for which we are fighting. You did it for revenge. In
doing it you put yourself on the same plane as the man you killed."
"Why, you have just helped me in killing several. What's the
difference?" asked Jack in astonishment.
"We killed those men in battle, and to save our own lives. The
difference is great. If I had cruelly killed those wounded men instead
of taking them to the house to be cared for, that would have been
murder, not warfare."
A thought came to Harry and he asked, "Jack, if that other man who
helped kill your father had been only wounded and not killed, what would
you have done?"
Jack hung his head and whispered, "Killed him."
"I thought so, I would have done the same to a man who helped kill my
father if it had not been for Captain Middleton. I have learned better,
and now thank him for it. Jack, promise me you will never leave the
command again without my permission."
Jack made the promise, but was rather doubtful as to the expediency of
sparing the life of a guerrilla guilty of murder.
Owing to the fight it was well along in the morning before the scouts
started. They had not gone over two miles before they met a man riding
rapidly. To him they told the story of going to join Poindexter.
"Better go to Switzler's Mill," he said. "Poindexter starts for there
this morning. I left him not over six hours ago. I'm on my way to try
and rally some of Porter's men to come to his assistance."
"Is that so?" dryly answered Harry. "You had better come with us. You
are just the man we've been looking for." And to the fellow's amazement,
he found himself a prisoner.
"Now, boys," cried Harry, gleefully, "back to Guitar, I've found out all
I want to know."
Horse flesh was not spared, and Guitar was found about noon, his column
on the march. To him Harry told the news, and with all speed the head of
the column was turned towards Switzler's Mill.
Now commenced a chase that lasted for seven days and did not end until
the command had ridden two hundred and fifty miles over the roughest of
roads.
Poindexter turned and twisted like a fox. There was no fight in his men;
they ran like a pack of frightened coyotes at the first crack of a gun.
Guitar struck him at Switzler's Mill and scattered his force like chaff.
Hot on Poindexter's trail the tireless troopers clung. Horses suffered
more than the men. Scores fell by the roadside and died of exhaustion.
At Little Compton Poindexter was once more brought to bay, and, scarcely
firing a shot; he fled, leaving behind his trains, most of his
ammunition, several hundred stands of arms, and five hundred horses.
His army was now little more than a fleeing mob. Once more he was struck
at the Muscle Fork of the Chariton. Many of his men were drowned trying
to get across the stream.
With only four hundred followers out of the fifteen hundred he had at
the beginning, Poindexter fled westward. Guitar could follow no farther.
Men and horses were exhausted.
In this remarkable campaign Guitar states that he lost only five men
wounded, while he estimates that at least one hundred and fifty of the
enemy were killed and drowned, and he had captured one hundred men and a
thousand horses and mules.
Poindexter's misfortunes were not ended. As he fled west and south the
remnant of his force was struck by General Ben Loan and totally
dispersed, every guerrilla seeking his own safety. Poindexter found
himself a wanderer without a single follower.
Disguising himself he skulked in the woods and found shelter in the
houses of friends, but tireless on his path were Harry and his scouts.
From covert to covert and from house to house they trailed him and at
last ran him down.
They entered a house where an apparently sick man sat cowering in a
corner, wrapped in a blanket. With a snarl Bruno was about to spring
upon him when Harry stopped him, and going up to the man said, "The jig
is up, Poindexter. You're not half as sick as you pretend."
With a groan and a curse the guerrilla chieftain yielded himself a
prisoner.
CHAPTER VIII
LONE JACK
Although the dispersion of Porter's and Poindexter's forces had
apparently put an end, at least for a time, to the guerrilla warfare in
Northeast Missouri, the situation was still threatening in Southwest
Missouri. It was for that reason General Schofield had ordered Lawrence
to that field to inspect the posts, and to see that the officers in
command were vigilant and doing their full duty.
Rumors were rife that a large party under Hughes, Quantrell and others
was gathering to attack Independence, also that a force was moving up
from Arkansas to join them. Independence captured, the combined forces
were to move on Lexington.
Lawrence was to sift down these rumors, and find out how much truth
there was in them, and above all to impress on the officers in charge of
the different posts the necessity of eternal vigilance.
But the blow fell just before Lawrence reached Lexington. Lieutenant
Colonel Buell, in command at Independence, although repeatedly warned,
allowed himself to be surprised. His forces were divided and not well
posted, and after a spirited fight Buell surrendered, and with him about
three hundred men were taken prisoners. The Confederate commander,
Colonel Hughes, was killed in the action.
The capture of Independence greatly elated the guerrillas, and recruits
came pouring in by the hundreds. They now only awaited the arrival of
Colonel Coffee from the south and they would move on to Lexington. When
Lawrence arrived at Lexington he found the place in the wildest
excitement. Rumors said that the enemy numbered thousands, and that they
were already marching on the place.
Lawrence acted quickly. He applied to the commander of the post for a
detail of ten men, dressed in citizen clothes.
"Tell them," he said, "it is for a scout, so they will not be deceived
as to the danger of the undertaking."
The ten men were easily procured, and, headed by Lawrence and Dan,
started. The object was to find out the strength of the enemy under
Coffee, and whether he could not be prevented from forming a union with
the forces which had captured Independence.
The scout was far more successful than Lawrence could have hoped.
Representing themselves as coming from north of the river, they had no
trouble in meeting on friendly terms several small parties of guerrillas
with whom they fell in. They were all on their way to join Thompson, who
was now in command of the forces which had captured Independence.
Everyone expected Lexington would be the next to fall, and they were all
anxious to have a hand in the affair. Lawrence represented they were to
find Coffee and hurry him up.
At length they were fortunate enough to fall in with a single guerrilla
who was sitting by the side of the road, making the air blue with his
curses.
"What's the matter?" asked Lawrence.
"My hoss stepped into a hole and threw me, and I have broken my leg," he
groaned.
"That's bad," said Lawrence. "I will see what I can do for you."
"Yes, it's bad, and I was on my way from Colonel Coffee to Colonel
Thompson."
"Ah! were you? Perhaps I can help you. I can send one of my men with the
message. What was it?"
"That he would camp near Lone Jack on the evening of the fifteenth, and
wanted Thompson to join him thar."
"How many men has Coffee?" Lawrence asked.
"About a thousand, but more are coming in all the time."
The information was important. It was just what Lawrence wanted, but
what to do with the man and still keep him deceived puzzled Lawrence.
This problem was solved by a native coming along driving a raw-boned
horse before a rickety wagon. Lawrence stopped him. The disabled
guerrilla was lifted into the wagon and taken to the nearest farmhouse.
Here Lawrence left instructions for them to send for a physician to set
the broken leg.
"Now I've done all I can for you," he told him, "and I must leave you,
for my business is very important. I shall see that your message to
Colonel Thompson is safely delivered."
No sooner were they out of sight than Lawrence said, "Now, boys, for
Lexington."
When Lawrence made his report, Colonel Huston, in command at Lexington,
acted with promptness. It was decided to send a force to strike Coffee
at Lone Jack before Thompson and Quantrell could join him.
The utmost that could be done was to gather a little force of about
seven hundred and fifty. This force was placed in command of Major Emery
Foster.
There was another force of about the same number under the command of
Colonel Fitz Henry Warren at Clinton. Clinton being about the same
distance from Lone Jack as Lexington, Warren was ordered to march there
and join Foster, and the two forces combined to attack Coffee without
delay.
In the meantime General Blunt, in command at Fort Scott, Kansas, had
learned that Coffee had slipped past Springfield and was making north,
and he started in pursuit with a thousand men.
A third force under Colonel Burris of the Kansas Infantry was ordered to
move from Kansas City and try to catch Thompson and Quantrell before
they could join Coffee.
Thus it looked as if the Confederates were hemmed in, and if everything
went right, could be captured.
Lawrence decided to join the expedition under Foster.
Foster's little army left Lexington on the morning of the fifteenth of
August, and by a rapid march reached the vicinity of Lone Jack by
evening. Here at nine o'clock at night he surprised Coffee in camp,
routing him, his men fleeing in confusion.
Foster took possession of the abandoned camp and waited until morning.
Warren had not been heard from.
Lawrence still was in command of his scouts, and he volunteered to see
if he could find Warren.
The night was dark and they had to be careful.
"If we only had Harry and Bruno," sighed Lawrence to Dan, as they were
groping their way along as best they could.
"If we had we wouldn't be going at this snail pace," answered Dan.
They could find nothing of Warren and started to return. On the way back
they came to a cross road and halted in doubt as to which road to take.
While debating, the sound of approaching horses was heard.
"Halt," commanded Lawrence as two guerrillas rode up.
"Who are yo' uns?" they asked, surprised.
"We 'uns are from Thompson. I was afraid yo' uns were Yanks. Whar is
Coffee?"
"The Yanks struck his camp a few hours ago and made us git."
"Many hurt?"
"I reckon not. We 'uns run too fast."
"Glad to heah that. Thompson sent me to tell Coffee he would be with him
by morning. Coffee hasn't run clear away, has he?"
"No, he's gittin' his men together and will be all right by morning. How
many men has Thompson?"
"About twelve or fifteen hundred. You see, Quantrell and Hayes air with
him. An Red Jerry has promised to come with his company."
"Together we 'uns ought to eat the Yanks up tomorrow."
"I don't see any use of your going farther, as Thompson is coming," said
Lawrence. "So you might as well go with us into camp."
To this the guerrillas agreed, and their surprise can be imagined when
they found themselves in Foster's camp instead of Coffee's.
The report of Lawrence that he could not find Warren, and that Thompson
would join Coffee in the morning troubled Foster.
"The whole combined force will be down on us in the morning," he said.
"Where can Warren be? Surely he cannot fail, for his orders were
positive, and mine were positive to stay here and wait for him. And stay
I will, if all the devils in Missouri are around me."
Lawrence looked at him with admiration. "Major, you are a man after my
own heart," he said. "I will make one more attempt to find Warren. This
time I will only take Sherman with me, as I do not wish to deplete your
little force by a single man."
"It will be dangerous, only two of you," replied Foster.
"Not as much danger as you will be in if Warren does not come," answered
Lawrence. "God grant I may find him."
"Amen!" said Foster, fervently.
The two men shook hands and Lawrence and Dan rode away. It lacked but an
hour till day.
Morning came, but there was no Warren, and neither had Dan and Lawrence
returned. The new day had hardly begun when the guerrilla hordes poured
down on Foster's little army, confident of an easy victory.
Now began one of the bloodiest and most fiercely contested small battles
of the war. The enemy had no artillery, but Foster had two pieces of the
Third Indiana battery. The lieutenant in charge of the piece, J. F.
Devlin, had been removed by Major Foster the night before for being
intoxicated, and the guns placed in charge of Sergeant James M. Scott,
and nobly did he uphold the confidence placed in him. Never was there a
battery better or more bravely served. Time and time again did the enemy
charge upon the guns, only to be flung back, bleeding and torn.
During a lull in the conflict, Lieutenant Devlin, somewhat recovered
from his drunken debauch, staggered on the field and ordered his men to
abandon the pieces. Accustomed to obey their superior officer, the men
did so. The enemy saw and with fiendish yells of triumph swarmed upon
and over the pieces.
It was a critical moment. Major Foster hastily collected sixty men and
charged on the guns--so shamelessly abandoned by the order of a drunken
commander. Of the sixty men who charged, but eleven reached the guns,
the rest had fallen, and among them the gallant Major. Others now rushed
to the rescue, the artillery men came back, and once more the guns were
thundering their defiance. The enemy again rushed on them, only to be
bloodily repulsed.
Disheartened, the Confederates now fell back, leaving the field to those
who had so valiantly defended it. But the situation of the little band
was perilous. Nothing had been heard from Warren, and nearly one-half of
the force had fallen. Captain Brawner, on whom the command had fallen,
resolved to retreat to Lexington. In doing this the two cannon had to be
abandoned.
Every horse had been shot, even the harnesses were in tatters. Of the
thirty-six artillery men manning the guns, twenty-four had been killed
and wounded. The severely wounded had to be left, among them the gallant
Foster.[5]
[Footnote 5: The brave Major recovered from what was supposed to be a
mortal wound, was exchanged, and afterwards did valiant service for the
Union.]
So severe had been the punishment administered to the enemy that the
Federals were not molested in their retreat. It put an end to all the
Confederates' hopes of capturing Lexington.[6]
[Footnote 6: Out of the seven hundred and forty Federals engaged in the
battle the loss was two hundred and seventy-two. The Confederates never
reported their loss, but a Confederate officer told Captain Brawner that
they buried one hundred and eighteen, who had been killed outright,
besides their hundreds of wounded.]
But where were Lawrence and Dan all the time the battle was raging? Why
had they not brought Colonel Warren to the rescue?
In the early morning they had run into a small party of guerrillas, had
boldly charged them and put them to flight, but the sound of firing had
brought a larger party, and they blocked the way Lawrence and Dan wished
to go. It was now light, and they saw the band numbered at least fifty.
There was no help for it, they had to turn and run, and that in a
direction that for aught they knew would bring them in the midst of the
enemy.
With fierce yells the guerrillas took up the pursuit and the chase was a
hot one. Lawrence and Dan were well mounted, but a few of the guerrillas
were just as well mounted, and pressed them closely.
Now as they fled, above the sound of their horses' hoofs rose the sound
of battle. Just the faint cracking of musketry, and then the boom of the
cannon.
"Great Heavens!" gasped Lawrence. "They are at it. Foster and his little
band against thousands. Why did we leave them? We might have been of a
little help."
"And we are going farther away from Warren every minute," groaned Dan.
Here the whistling of a bullet from the revolver of the nearest
guerrilla brought their thoughts back to the seriousness of their own
situation. They had now gone beyond the sound of the musketry, but the
roar of the cannon grew more incessant, and they knew they were almost
in the rear of the enemy.
Coming to where there were open fields, they glanced to the right and
saw the stragglers and wounded drifting to the rear, as is always the
case in time of battle. They must turn or they would soon be in the
midst of the rabble.
Fortunately, they came to a cross road and turned into it. They were now
followed by only five or six of their pursuers, the rest having turned
back to take part in the battle. But these half dozen were mounted on
the fleetest horses and were gaining on them rapidly. Already the
bullets were singing around them freely.
"This cannot last," Lawrence exclaimed. "Our horses are becoming winded.
We must find some way to stop those fellows."
"We've got to stop them," said Dan. "My horse is staggering and I look
for him to drop any minute."
They rode over a little hill that for a moment put them out of sight.
"Now," said Lawrence, halting and wheeling his horse. Dan did the same.
"When they come over the hill give it to them," exclaimed Lawrence. "It
will be a question of who can shoot the straightest."
Dan smiled and he drew his revolver. He was known to be a dead shot, and
nothing rattled him.
They had hardly two seconds to wait when four of the guerrillas dashed
over the rise. Seeing Lawrence and Dan facing them and not thirty yards
away, startled them and they instinctively tried to check their headlong
pace. It was a fatal mistake, for it disconcerted their aim and their
shots went wild.
To his astonishment, Lawrence recognized one of the guerrillas as Jerry
Alcorn, his old time enemy. Lawrence fired, but just as he did so
Jerry's horse threw up his head and the ball struck him squarely between
the eyes. The horse dropped like a stone, pinning Jerry for a moment to
the ground.
Dan had fired the same time Lawrence did and his guerrilla pitched
headlong. The report of his shot had not died before he shot again and a
second guerrilla fell.
The remaining guerrilla had no stomach to continue the fight, and
wheeled his horse to flee. Once more Dan's revolver spoke, and the
guerrilla fell forward, but he clung desperately to the neck of his
horse and was soon carried from view.
It took Jerry Alcorn but a moment to extricate himself from his horse,
and as he half rose he fired at Lawrence, but missed. Lawrence returned
the fire, and the ball struck Jerry's revolver and sent it spinning.
With a mocking laugh Jerry sprang into the bushes along the road. "Not
this time, Lawrence Middleton," he shouted as he disappeared, "but we'll
meet again."
"Let's get out of here," said Lawrence. "We can't follow Jerry in the
brush and we are now safe from pursuit."
Even the short stop had allowed their horses a breathing spell and they
could now ride more leisurely.
"Dan, I'm a poor stick. I should be reduced to the ranks and you given
my commission," said Lawrence.
"How's that?" asked Dan.
"Didn't you get three of those fellows, and I only killed a horse and
disabled a revolver. Missed three shots." Lawrence had fired again at
Jerry as he disappeared in the brush. "Bah! I'm ashamed of myself."
"Look here!" said Dan. "It was that measly horse. He had no business to
throw up his head at that moment. Served him right to get killed."
"But the second shot, Dan. It went wild and hit his revolver, and the
third missed altogether. And of all men to let Jerry Alcorn escape. Kick
me, Dan."
"Might have bored one of us if you hadn't knocked the revolver out of
his hand," answered Dan, "so shut up."
They had ridden far out of their way and had to make a wide circuit to
get back. A little before noon the distant booming of the cannon was
heard no longer.
"It's all over," sighed Lawrence, "and I'm afraid."
Dan's jaws came together with a snap and a dark scowl came over his
face. "Why in thunder didn't Warren come?" he wrathfully exclaimed.
"Some of these officers make me tired."
It was the middle of the afternoon before Warren was found. He was
fearful of an attack on himself, and was several miles from the
battlefield.
To Lawrence's request to hurry the Colonel replied, "You say the battle
is over and in all probability Foster's whole force captured. In that
case I can do no good. My force is but little greater than that Foster
had."
"But they may not all be captured. You may be able to cover the
retreat," Lawrence urged.
"The best I can do is to stay and watch the enemy, and wait for
reinforcements," replied Warren.
Lawrence and Dan were disgusted, but Warren was right in not seeking an
engagement with his small force.
"What shall we do, Dan?" Lawrence asked with a heavy heart as they
turned away.
"Try and see what has become of Foster," answered Dan.
"You're right, Dan."
They were about to ride away when news came that Foster's force was in
full retreat for Lexington, and that those who survived the battle were
safe.
Lawrence and Dan concluded to stay with Warren.
Knowing that a force from Kansas City, as well as General Blunt from the
far south, was closing in on the Confederates, they had high hopes that
they might be captured. But during the night Coffee's entire force
slipped by Blunt and, before the movement was discovered, was well on
its way to Arkansas. The guerrilla bands of Quantrell, Red Jerry and
others took to the brush, there to remain hidden until the Federal
troops had returned to their several posts.
Lawrence and Dan returned to Lexington disgusted. They believed that if
the different forces had acted together, and the campaign been managed
rightly, the entire force of the enemy could have been captured.
CHAPTER IX
CAPTURED BY GUERRILLAS
There is little doubt that Major Foster's plucky fight at Lone Jack
saved Lexington, for had he not gone out and attacked the Confederates,
they would have marched straight on that place, as was their intention.
The fight halted them and gave the Federals time to concentrate.
All danger of the Federals being driven from the State by a partisan
uprising now being over, and the deep laid plans of General Hindman and
other Confederate leaders being brought to naught, General Schofield
resolved to concentrate his army at Springfield.
The army that was known as "The Army of the Northwest" had now been
designated "The Army of the Frontier," and General Schofield decided to
leave the command of the Department of Missouri in other hands and
assume the command of the Army of the Frontier in person, with
headquarters at Springfield.
Before returning to St. Louis business took Lawrence to Fort
Leavenworth. He had not been there since 1856, when a forlorn little boy
of twelve, without money and without friends, he had taken passage for
St. Louis. How the memory of those days came rushing over him. The mob,
the tarring and feathering of his father, Judge Lindsly taking them
in,--the gallant defence of his father by Judge Lindsly,--the raid by
John Brown,--the flight to Kansas,--his father's death,--it all came
back to him like a mighty rushing torrent.
He wondered how Judge Lindsly was now. How was he faring in these
troublesome times? Was he being robbed by both guerrillas and Federals?
He determined to visit him. Perhaps he might be of some protection to
him as far as the Federal side was concerned.
He spoke of his determination to the commander at Fort Leavenworth and
that officer replied, "You cannot go without an escort. The country is
swarming with guerrillas who never lose a chance of shooting any
Federals who are unwise enough to stray outside of the lines. There is a
detachment of our troops at Platte City and I will give you an escort
that far. How far is it from Platte City to where Judge Lindsly lives?"
"I should say nine or ten miles," replied Lawrence.
"Well, do not try to make the trip from there without a good escort. A
Captain Leeper is in command at Platte and he will readily supply you
with one."
Lawrence thanked him and was ready to start when the escort, which
consisted of a sergeant and five men, made their appearance.
Dan had found some old friends at Leavenworth who had been with him in
the troublesome times on the border before the war, and he concluded to
stay with them while Lawrence made his visit. As it turned out, it was
fortunate that he did so.
Crossing the river on a ferry, Lawrence and his escort mounted their
horses and started for Platte City, but a few miles away. It was with a
sad heart that Lawrence looked over the country. What had been one of
the most beautiful portions of the State had become almost a desolate
waste. Ruined houses and deserted farms met his gaze at every turn.
When Platte City was reached Lawrence received a cordial welcome from
Captain Leeper, who, on hearing his request, readily consented to give
him an escort of a corporal and four men.
"A few days ago," said the Captain, "I would not have dared to send so
small an escort, for a gang of bushwhackers under the command of a
notorious guerrilla named Lamar has been scourging the neighborhood, but
Colonel Penick, last week, came over from Liberty and scattered them. He
captured two, whom he shot, and burned two or three houses whose owners
had been harboring the gang. It has been very quiet ever since. I think
he has thoroughly dispersed the gang."
This news was not very cheering to Lawrence. Shooting guerrillas after
they were caught and burning houses did not tend to make those left less
cruel.
When Lawrence came in sight of the once fine plantation of Judge Lindsly
his heart bled. The fields were neglected, not half of them under
cultivation, and those that were, poorly tended, but to his relief the
house had not been disturbed.
Although greatly surprised, the Judge received Lawrence with open arms.
"I often see your name in the papers," he said, "and rejoice at your
advancement, although it is at the cost of the cause I love."
"Tell me of yourself," said Lawrence, "and all that has happened to you
during the last months of trial."
The Judge sighed deeply and replied, "Look and see for yourself what
this unhappy war has not only brought upon me, but on the whole State. I
have been preyed upon by both Federals and guerrillas. Most of my slaves
have left me. To make my position more intolerable, I am _persona non
grata_ with both sides. The guerrillas do not like me because I denounce
guerrilla warfare. I tell them if the independence of the South is ever
achieved, it will be done by the great armies in the field, and that the
place of every man who loves and would fight for the South should be in
the army, not hiding in the brush. General Price should have had the
fifty thousand men he called for. He would have had them if everyone who
has played the part of guerrilla had responded. With such an army he
would have swept the State clear of Federals.
"I told them the late uprising of the partisan bands would only bring
more misery, bloodshed and murder on the State, and nothing would be
accomplished, and so it has proven.
"I was denounced for these opinions and my life has been threatened by
Quantrell, Lamar and others.
"On the other hand, I am continually being threatened with arrest by the
Federals. I have absolutely refused to take the oath of allegiance to
the Federal Government. Now that the worst has come, I am with the South
heart and soul, and I will not perjure myself."
Lawrence was deeply moved. He could only press the hand of the old Judge
in sympathy and say, "If I have any influence you will never be
arrested. If you ever get in trouble let me know. What I can do I will."
This the Judge promised, and when it came time to part he held
Lawrence's hand lingeringly and said with emotion, "Would to God,
Lawrence, you were my own son and fighting for the right, but I love you
as it is. May your life be spared."
Lawrence's eyes filled with tears. He tried to speak, but his voice
failed. He could only press the hand of the Judge as they parted.
Riding a short distance he turned and looked back. Judge Lindsly was
still standing on the porch looking after him and waved his hand.
Lawrence choked back a sob as he waved his hand in return. The once
erect form of the Judge was bowed and bent; his gray hair was perfectly
white, and he leaned on his cane, weak and trembling.
It was months before Lawrence saw him again, and then it was in a prison
pen at Kansas City.
All unconscious of danger, Lawrence started back to Platte City. His
visit had left a heavy load on his heart. He thought of the time the
Judge saved his father's life, risking his own to do so, and his image
rose before him, as he stood, proud, erect, like a lion at bay, facing
the mob.[7]
[Footnote 7: See "With Lyon in Missouri."]
They had covered about half the distance to Platte City without
incident, Lawrence and the corporal riding side by side, the four
troopers a short distance in advance.
Suddenly from a thicket two rifles blazed. The corporal fell from his
horse dead, the horse which Lawrence rode plunged forward on his head,
throwing Lawrence heavily, and he lay unconscious in the road.
The four troopers, seeing both Lawrence and the corporal, as they
supposed, lying dead, put spurs to their horses and rode for their lives
to Platte City to give the alarm.
At the head of twenty men Captain Leeper started for the scene of
action, but all he found was the dead body of the corporal, and that of
Lawrence's horse. The horse had been shot through the head and both
saddle and bridle were missing.
The guerrillas had hung the body of the corporal from a tree and there
it dangled over the road, a gruesome object. To the lapel of his coat
they had pinned a paper on which was written, "The fate that awaits all
Kansas Jayhawkers."
Of Lawrence there were no signs, and as night was falling, Captain
Leeper returned to Platte City full of wrath, but impotent to avenge.
When the guerrillas fired the corporal was slightly in advance of
Lawrence and the bullet had gone clear through his body and struck
Lawrence's horse. The horse falling had saved Lawrence's life, as he
being thrown had caused the second guerrilla to miss him.
When Lawrence came to, there were two guerrillas standing gloating over
him. "Say, Jim," said one. "This feller ain't dead. He's wiggling. Shall
I finish him?"
"No, let's take him to the captain," replied the other. "He's a Yankee
officer, and if we 'uns hang him all the boys will want to see the fun."
It was not long before Lawrence fully came to. To the jeers and taunts
of his captors he made no reply. But when he saw there were but two of
them he mentally cursed the four escorts who had so cowardly left him to
his fate.
After he was securely bound he was forced to stand while the two, with
foul epithets, hung the body of the corporal over the road.
"Thar yo' un can see what yo' un are coming to," one said, grinning at
Lawrence. "How do yo' un like it?"
Lawrence made no answer, and with a curse and a growl the guerrillas
turned away.
Lawrence was now placed on the horse that had been ridden by the
corporal, his hands tied behind him and his feet securely bound beneath
the horse on which he rode. One of the guerrillas tied the halter of the
horse to the saddle of the one he rode, and they started for the secret
rendezvous of the gang. It was long after nightfall before they reached
it.
Captain Lamar and most of the gang were found to be away, so supperless
and bound, Lawrence was placed under a tree to await the morning.
The cords with which he was bound cut into his flesh and he was parched
with thirst. He asked for water, but a curse was the only answer.
There throughout the rest of the night Lawrence lay, the stars looking
pityingly down upon him. He could not sleep, his sufferings were too
great, and there was the uncertainty of the morrow. What would the end
be?
All his life passed before his mental vision in a panoramic vision. He
lived it all over again.
Morning came, but Captain Lamar and the rest of the gang had not yet
returned. He was given some breakfast, but taunted with the fact that it
would be his last meal on earth. Better than the food was the water
which cooled his parched mouth and tongue. No nectar that ever flowed
tasted half so sweet.
About nine o'clock Captain Lamar came. He was in a towering rage, for
his expedition had failed and he had lost two men.
When told two of his men had killed a Yankee and captured a Yankee
captain, he asked what had been done with the captain.
"He is heah," said one of the men. "We 'uns have been waitin' to see
what yo' un wanted to do with him."
"Hang him or shoot him, I don't care which," he growled as he turned
away. "I'm tired and hungry and want some breakfast."
The Captain's decision was told, but the gang decided to wait until the
men who came in with the Captain had had breakfast, so all could enjoy
the sport. To the savage men the hanging or shooting of a Yankee was an
enjoyable event.
When breakfast was over there was quite a discussion as to whether
Lawrence should be hung or shot. Those in favor of hanging carried the
day, so he was led under the projecting limb of a tree and a rope placed
around his neck.
Lawrence felt all hope was gone. He was standing face to face with
death. For a moment he felt faint and a deadly fear seized him. Few
there be who in health and strength can face Death without a fear. As
they look him in his face and his shadowy wings cover them, nature
recoils and would flee from him.
But it was only a moment that Lawrence feared. He gulped back the lump
in his throat; his trembling nerves became as steel. He was a man--a
soldier again. He had faced death on the battlefield without a quiver
and he would do so now, though this was different, it was coming in such
a horrible form; but he would face it. He looked into the scowling faces
around him without a sign of fear.
"What do yo' un have to say before we 'uns string you up?" demanded one
of the men.
"Nothing," answered Lawrence, "but I would be thankful if you would
inform Judge Lindsly of my fate. He at least will give my body a decent
burial."
At this the guerrillas burst into a boisterous laugh. "That's a good
one," they cried. "He reckons we 'uns bury the Yanks we 'uns hang. Young
feller, we 'uns will pitch your carcass in the brush and leave it for
the buzzards to pick--that is, if a Missouri buzzard will pick a dead
Yank."
At this sally there was another burst of laughter.
Just then there came a diversion. One of the men, Cal Jones, who had
been one of the party with Lamar, had missed a Federal soldier at short
range, and his companions were guying him unmercifully.
"Why," drawled one called Hooper, "Cal couldn't hit a barn door at fifty
paces."
Cal was hopping mad. "I'll bet yo 'un a hoss I ken put a ball through
that Yank's heart at fifty paces," he roared.
"Done," exclaimed Hooper. "Heah, boys, stop that picnic for a few
moments. Cal has bet me a hoss he can plug that Yank through the heart
at fifty paces the first shot."
Some of the men began to demur, but Hooper, in a tantalizing tone,
drawled, "Don't be skeered, boys. Cal will sure miss him, and we 'uns
can have our fun afterwards."
"I'll show yo' un. I'll show yo' un," yelled Cal, hopping around like a
mad turkey.
They now all fell in with the idea, and Lawrence was placed with his
back against a tree. To him the diversion came as a welcome relief. He
would now die like a soldier and not like a felon.
"Hold on thar!" cried Hooper, as Jones began to pace the distance. "I
said fifty paces, not fifty steps. Yo' un don't come that on me."
"I am pacin'." snarled Cal. "Want to back out, do yer?"
"Not much, but I'll do that pacin' myself." And he began.
"No, yer don't," yelled Cal. The men were about to fight when the others
interfered, saying it was only fair a third party should do the pacing.
This was agreed to and the pacing duly done. Jones took his position, a
huge navy revolver in his hand.
Lawrence stood facing him. Not a muscle quivered as he looked his
would-be executioner in the eye.
Jones raised his weapon. "Stand back," yelled Hooper. "Don't get too
close, some of yo' uns will get hurt. The Yank is in no danger."
Jones fired, but he was too angry to shoot straight, and his shot went
wild.
"What did I tell yo' un? What did I tell yo' un?" cried Hooper. "Never
teched the Yank or tree, either," and he kicked up his heels like a
young colt. "That hoss is mine."
The whole crowd shouted in derision, and Jones, in anger, fired every
shot in his revolver before they could stop him. Lawrence stood unmoved
and smiling. One shot had struck the tree an inch above his head,
another had passed between his arm and body, and a third had cut a
little piece out of his coat on the shoulder. The humorous aspect of the
affair struck him, and he laughed outright.
The guerrillas simply went crazy with delight. Many of them threw
themselves on the ground rolling and kicking with laughter.
Captain Lamar heard the shots and the uproar and came to see what it
meant. He had just finished his breakfast and was in a little better
humor. When he heard what had happened he remarked with a cruel smile,
"Turn about is fair play. Better put Cal up, and see what the Yank can
do."
This suggestion took like wildfire. Cal was seized by his comrades and,
frightened and begging for his life, was being hustled to the tree to
take Lawrence's place when the Captain interfered. "Hold on, boys," he
said. "I only wanted to frighten Cal. But if he don't learn to be a
better shot I'll hang him sure. But that Yank must be a gritty fellow.
I'll have a look at him."
"Gritty," said one of the men. "Well, I should say so. He turned kind of
white around the gills when he first felt the halter around his neck,
and then braced up and not a whimper. Why, he actually laughed when Cal
was shooting at him."
"That was because Cal was shooting so wild," remarked the Captain.
"Three of the shots came mighty close to him. Only missed him by a
hair's breadth."
"Glad to hear Cal is improving," said Lamar dryly, as he walked towards
Lawrence.
He had no sooner looked him in the face than an expression of surprise
came over his countenance. He stepped back, swept his hand across his
eyes, as if he was brushing away something, looked again and then turned
away, saying, "There'll be no hanging. Untie the prisoner and bring him
to my tent."
The men gazed at each other in astonishment. But great as was their
surprise, greater was Lawrence's. The shock was almost as great as when
he thought he had to die. Then he began to realize he had stepped from
the shadow of death, and there was hope of living, and he breathed a
prayer of thankfulness.
His surprise grew when Lamar called the two men who had captured him and
asked what they had of his.
"Everything, Captain, but his hoss. That was killed. But we 'uns have
got the hoss of the Yank that was killed," they answered.
"Well, bring everything you have of his, and the horse you
captured--saddled and bridled," he ordered, and the men departed
wondering.
When Lawrence was brought before Lamar he asked him what he was doing in
this part of the country. Lawrence told him he had been to visit Judge
Lindsly, who had greatly befriended him when he was small.
"Are you the boy whose father was tarred and feathered, and the Judge
took you both in?"
"I am."
Lamar chuckled. "Say, boy, do you know I was in that crowd?"
"No," answered Lawrence, more astonished than ever.
"Well, I was. But here is your horse and everything taken from you. You
are at liberty to take them and ride away. Nay, more, I will send an
escort with you to protect you until you are near the lines of your
friends."
Lawrence's lips trembled and his voice was husky as he answered,
"Captain, I don't know why you have granted me such clemency, but I am
thankful from the bottom of my heart. Be assured if the time ever comes
when I can return you the same mercy you have shown me it will be done."
"We are at quits now," said Lamar. "You saved my life once."
"I?" cried Lawrence. "I never remember having seen you before."
"You have. About a year ago I belonged to a body of partisans commanded
by Captain Proctor. A fellow by name of Semans peached on us. We paid
him off by burning his buildings and shooting him. Just as we finished
the job a body of cavalry charged down and drove us off. I was left on
the field desperately wounded. Some of the men were about to shoot me as
I lay there helpless, but the captain of the cavalry, a mere boy, sprang
in, with his sword, beat down the guns, and swore that no wounded man,
no matter what he had done, should be ruthlessly murdered while he was
commanding that company. Captain, you are that boy; I am that wounded
man."
"Ah, I remember," murmured Lawrence.
"That is not all," continued Lamar. "You tenderly cared for me, had me
taken to a near-by house, where I stayed until I recovered. Captain, no
thanks. As I have said, we are quits now. If we meet again it will be on
even terms. One promise you must make me. You must not lead the Federals
to this place for the next twenty-four hours. After that I do not care."
"The promise is freely given," answered Lawrence.
The two men, so strangely met, shook hands, and Lawrence mounted his
horse and, accompanied by two of the guerrillas, rode away.
On the way they met several rough-looking men who looked at Lawrence
with malevolent eyes, but a few whispered words from his guards and they
were allowed to pass on. Lawrence now saw why Captain Lamar had sent a
guard with him.
After they had traveled several miles Lawrence saw a line of blue
galloping towards him.
"Go, I will see you are not followed," he said to his guards. They
raised their hands in salute, turned, and putting spurs to their horses,
were soon out of sight.
In a moment more Lawrence was in the arms of Dan Sherman, who was
hugging him, laughing and crying at the same time.
"I'll never leave you again," he cried.
"It is fortunate that you did," replied Lawrence, "for if you had been
with me there would be no Dan Sherman now."
The officer in command of the company now bustled up. "Did I not see two
men with you, Captain?" he asked. "They looked to me very much like
guerrillas."
"They were friends," answered Lawrence. "Neither can I guide you to the
haunts of those who held me prisoner. Tomorrow you are at liberty to
find them if you can. Turn back with me to Platte City and I will tell
you my story."
When they heard the story they marvelled and swore they had never heard
of any gratitude in a guerrilla's heart before.[8]
[Footnote 8: Several months after this Lamar was captured, not by
Lawrence, but by an officer who knew the story. He was paroled and lived
to become a good citizen after the war.]
CHAPTER X
THE GUERRILLA'S BRIDE
"How did you come to be with the soldiers I met?" asked Lawrence of Dan.
The two were now in Leavenworth, waiting for a boat to take them down
the river.
"It was this way," answered Dan. "When those rascally cavalrymen
deserted you and rode back to Platte City, word was sent post-haste
here, asking for a company to go to the aid of Captain Leeper, and help
chastise the band which had murdered you, and, if possible, to procure
your body. I was nearly wild when I heard you had been killed, and
nothing could have prevented me from accompanying the company sent to
Captain Leeper. I tell you, charges ought to be preferred against those
four men who so basely deserted you. They should be court-martialed for
cowardice and shot."
"Not so fast, Dan," replied Lawrence. "Those men heard the shots, looked
back and saw, as they supposed, the Corporal and myself both killed.
They did not know how many guerrillas were in the brush, and they did
the best and about the only thing they could do--get to Platte City as
soon as possible, and give the alarm."
"They should have known there were but two from the report of the guns,"
grumbled Dan. "I tell you it was a cowardly trick. Do you think I would
have left you, if I had been one of the four?"
"No, Dan," said Lawrence, laying his hand on his shoulder,
affectionately. "You would have charged back there if there had been
fifty guerrillas, instead of two; but all men are not dear old Dan."
There was a suspicious moisture in Dan's eyes, but he only said: "Pshaw!
Any fellow with any grit would have done it."
A boat coming along, they took passage for Lexington, the boat making
quite a long stop at Kansas City. They found that all fear that the
enemy might be able to capture the towns along the Missouri had
subsided. Everywhere the guerrillas had been beaten, and they were
fleeing south by the hundreds to hide in the Ozarks or among the
mountains of northern Arkansas. Still, numerous small bands remained in
hiding. Within a radius of a hundred miles, taking Lexington as a
center, then were a score of these bands operating, but there were two
of them which were especially daring and troublesome.
One of these bands was led by the notorious Quantrell, and the other by
Jerry Alcorn, known as Red Jerry.
Jerry, the year before, had fled from St. Louis, being detected in a
plot to assassinate Lawrence Middleton and Guilford Craig. He had joined
Price's army, but soon deserted to become leader of a band of
guerrillas. Lawrence, with his scouts, had met this band the year
before, and given it a crushing defeat. As has also been seen, it was
Jerry and his men that chased Lawrence and Dan as they were going in
search of Colonel Warner at Lone Jack.
When Lawrence reached Lexington, he received dispatches from General
Schofield, saying he would not be able to go to Springfield to take
command of the army quite as soon as he had expected, and that Lawrence
should report to him at St. Louis; but before he reported he was to see
that all the guerrilla bands around Lexington were dispersed.
Lawrence found that a force was being organized in Lexington to try to
surprise and capture Red Jerry and his entire band. He determined to
accompany it. But when he found the officer who was to command the
expedition was a Colonel Jennison, he hesitated. He had but little use
for that officer. He commanded one of those regiments known as
jay-hawkers. The men composing the regiment were fighters, but in their
tactics differed little from the guerrillas. With them it was "an eye
for an eye, a tooth for a tooth."
Lawrence talked it over with Dan, and they were so anxious that Red
Jerry be brought to justice for his many crimes that he decided to
overcome his repugnance to the Colonel, and go, taking the place of the
Major of the regiment, who was sick.
Jerry was reported as hanging around the plantation of a Mr. Floyd
Templeton, a very respected old gentleman, but a bitter Southern
partisan. Mr. Templeton had two children--a son who was with Price, and
a daughter who oversaw the household, the mother being dead.
This daughter, Agnes by name, was at this time about twenty, and was a
strikingly beautiful girl. Her lustrous hair, dark as midnight, crowned
a well-shaped head, which she carried as proudly as a queen. Her dark
eyes, lovely in repose, could with a languishing glance cause the heart
of the most prosaic of men to beat more rapidly; but in their depth was
a hidden fire which would blaze forth when aroused, and show the
tempestuous soul which dwelt within. She was above medium height, and
her body was as lithe and supple as a panther's.
In vain had her hand been sought by the beaux for twenty miles around.
When the war came, she told them no one need woo her until her beloved
Missouri was free of the Yankee foe, and he who did win her must be a
soldier, brave and true.
Some months before, Jerry's gang had been attacked and scattered, and
Jerry, his horse being killed, fled on foot. In his flight he came to
the Templeton house, his pursuers close behind.
He implored Agnes to save him, and this she did by secreting him in a
hidden closet behind the huge chimney. To the Federal soldiers in
pursuit she swore the guerrilla chieftain had passed by without
stopping. A careful search of the house revealing nothing, the soldiers
were forced to believe she told the truth.
Jerry was not only grateful to his fair preserver, but fell violently in
love with her. The rough guerrilla soldier was not the soldier of the
dreams of the proud, aristocratic girl. Concealing her repugnance to his
advances, she gently but firmly refused him, telling him her duty was to
her aged father. Jerry was so persistent in his advances that she
finally told him he must never speak of the subject again, or he would
be refused the house.
More than once did Jerry conceive the scheme of carrying her off by
force and marrying her against her will; but he became aware that the
girl possessed as fierce a spirit as his own, and if need were she would
not hesitate to plunge a dagger in his heart.
With the fires of unrequited love burning in his heart, he had to cease
his advances; but, like the silly moths that flutter around a candle, he
made every excuse to call at the Templeton residence. The girl warned
him by saying that by his course he was bringing not only danger on
himself, but on her father as well.
Jerry knew this, and the dastardly thought came to him that if the
Federals did make way with her father, Agnes, in her loneliness, might
come to him. It was a thought worthy of his black nature, but that he
madly loved the girl, there was no doubt.
The expedition against Jerry was well planned, but he got wind of it,
and scattered his force.
In a running fight that took place, Jerry captured two of Jennison's
men. These he calmly proceeded to hang, almost in sight of Templeton's
door, for the purpose of bringing down the wrath of Jennison on
Templeton's head. Only too well did the damnable plot succeed.
Jennison was beside himself with rage, and after pursuing Jerry until
all hopes of catching him had ended, he returned to the Templeton place,
and, calling the old man to the door, he denounced him in the most
violent terms, calling him a sneaking rebel, who made his house a
rendezvous for murderers.
Mr. Templeton drew himself up proudly. "I may be what you call a rebel,"
he exclaimed, "but I am not a sneaking one. My heart and soul are with
the South in her struggle for liberty, and every one knows it. As for
the men you call guerrillas, I can no more help their coming here than I
can help your coming."
"You lie, you old scoundrel!" shouted Jennison. "You invite them to
come, and aid them in their nefarious work. The murderers you have been
harboring hanged two of my men yesterday, almost at your very door, and
no doubt you looked on and approved."
"I did no such thing," answered Mr. Templeton. "I did not know of the
deed until it was done; then I told Alcorn never again to set foot on my
premises."
"More lies, you canting old hypocrite. Do you know what I am going to do
with you?" shouted Jennison.
"I am in your power; you can do anything you wish," answered Mr.
Templeton, with dignity.
"I am going to shoot you, and burn your house," yelled Jennison.
"You will never harbor any more guerrillas."
At these words, Agnes sprang before her father, with a scream. "If you
shoot any one, shoot me--not him," she said. "If there has been any
harboring, it is I who am to blame. I have harbored those fighting to
rid our State of such as you, and I glory in it. Shoot me--not him."
Lawrence and Dan just now rode up and gazed in astonishment at the
scene. The girl stood in front of her father, her arms outspread, her
bosom heaving with excitement, her eyes blazing, inviting the deadly
volley.
Her tragic attitude, her wondrous beauty, awed the men, and they lowered
the guns that had been raised to slay the father.
"Drag her away, and shoot!" commanded Jennison, with an oath.
"Hold!" cried Lawrence. "Colonel Jennison, do you realize what you are
doing? What does this mean?"
"It means I'm going to shoot this old villain and burn the house. It
means I am going to put an end to this harboring of guerrillas, if I
have to burn every house in this accursed State," thundered Jennison.
"Now drag the girl away."
"The first man that touches that girl dies!" cried Lawrence, drawing his
revolver.
"I'm with you," said Dan, drawing his revolver, and taking his place by
Lawrence's side.
For a moment Colonel Jennison was too astonished to speak; then his face
turned livid with passion. "Young man," he hissed, "do you know what you
are doing? By a word I can have you both shot--shot for mutiny--and, by
God! I ought to say the word."
"But, Colonel, what you are going to do is an outrage," cried Lawrence,
"a damnable outrage--one that will bring black disgrace on our arms. It
is an act that General Schofield will never countenance, and in his name
I ask you to countermand the order."
"Which I will not do!" exclaimed Jennison, white with rage. "I have been
trammelled enough with orders from headquarters. I propose to deal with
these red-handed assassins as I please. We, along the border, propose to
protect ourselves. Captain Middleton, you and your companion are under
arrest for insubordination. Lieutenant Cleveland, take their swords, and
with a detail of six men escort them back to Lexington. When I return I
will make a formal charge against them."
There was no use in resisting. The majority of Jennison's regiment was
composed of men from Kansas who had suffered from the raids of the
Border Ruffians before the war, or had been driven from their homes in
Missouri, and heartily sympathized with the Colonel in his warfare of
retaliation.
Lawrence also knew he had committed a grave offence when, in his
indignation, he tried to prevent the execution of Templeton by force. So
he quietly submitted to arrest; but as he rode away there came to his
ears the shrieks of the girl, then the sharp crack of three or four
carbines. Lawrence shuddered and, looking back, he saw great columns of
smoke rolling up, and through the blackness red tongues of leaping
flame.
After the volley killing her father had been fired, the girl uttered one
more shriek, and then stood with dry eyes, gazing as if in a trance;
then with a low moan she threw herself on the still body, enfolding it
with her arms as if she would shield it from the profane gaze of those
around it. She lay as if dead; and so they left her.
Hours afterward, Red Jerry came creeping up from his hiding place, and
found her. At first he thought her dead, but at his touch and the sound
of his voice she aroused and stood up--but a changed being--changed from
a woman into a demon.
She spoke a few words to Jerry, but in so low a tone his few followers
who had gathered round could not hear. Jerry gently led her away from
the rest; but the men noticed she walked as one seeing not.
They stopped under a tree not far away.
"Jerry," she said, in a tone devoid of the least sign of feeling, "you
have often told me you loved me, and wanted me to become your wife. I
have as often refused. I am now ready to marry you, if you make me one
promise."
Red Jerry's heart gave a great bound. He had won. The peerless Agnes
Templeton was to become his wife--he, a guerrilla chieftain.
"Anything you ask," he cried, rapturously, and attempted to take her in
his arms.
"Do not touch me," she said, in the same passionless tones. "You must
not touch me until you have promised, and not then until the words are
spoken which give you a right."
"What is it you want me to promise, Agnes? You know anything in my power
will be granted," Jerry replied, his voice showing the depth of his
passion.
"That you will let me dress as a man and ride by your side; that you
will never order me away, however great the danger; that where you are,
I may always be."
"For you to ride at my side would be bliss," said Jerry; "but, oh!
Agnes, to lead you into danger--how can I do it?"
"It must be as I say, or I can never be your wife," was her answer.
Jerry promised, and side by side they rode away to the home of a
minister. It was near midnight when they reached it, and there, amid the
clashing of the elements--for a fearful storm had arisen--the words were
spoken that made Agnes Templeton the bride of Jerry Alcorn, the
guerrilla.
Sacrificing everything feminine, except her luxuriant hair, which she
coiled tightly on top of her head and concealed under a wide sombrero,
she rode by the side of her husband throughout his career. No Federal
thought the smooth-faced, handsome young man who was always with Jerry
was a woman.
The band became known as one of the most cruel and merciless in the
State. It revelled in deeds of bloodshed, and of all the band, the young
man with the angel face and the heart of a demon, who rode by Red Jerry,
was known as the most merciless.
CHAPTER XI
THE STORY OF CARL MEYER
"Of all outrages!" exclaimed Dan.
"That girl! Wasn't she splendid?" answered Lawrence. "She made me think
of some great tragic queen. What a scene for the stage!--and we saw it
in reality."
"Wasn't thinking of the girl," sputtered Dan. "I was thinking of the
outrage of sending us back under arrest."
"He had a right to, Dan. We could be court-martialed and shot."
"What! For interfering with the hellish work of that murderer? He is as
bad as a guerrilla," angrily responded Dan.
"For drawing a weapon and interfering with his orders," replied
Lawrence. "Good God! I could almost afford to be shot for the pleasure
of putting a bullet through the black heart of Jennison. That girl--I
wonder what will become of her!"
"Girl again!" growled Dan. "And don't blame Jennison too much. He had
great provocation. No doubt that old scoundrel had been shielding
Jerry."
But Lawrence did not answer. He knew Dan's aversion to girls, and little
was said as they rode on, mile after mile. Both Lawrence and Dan
bitterly felt the disgrace of reporting back to Lexington under arrest.
Lawrence knew that the case would have to go to Schofield. If there was
any court-martial, Schofield would have to order it, and Lawrence felt
that the General would deal leniently with him.
But the case never went to Schofield. On his return from his raid,
Colonel Jennison released Lawrence from arrest, saying he did so on
account of his youth, and that no doubt he acted as he did from sudden
impulse, owing to the distress and beauty of the girl. Neither did he
think Lawrence understood the situation. Harsh means had to be used to
prevent the guerrillas from murdering Union men.
The fact was, Colonel Jennison did not wish the case to be investigated.
He, Lane, and others had been reprimanded so often by the Federal
authorities that more than once they had threatened to turn guerrillas
and wage warfare on their own account.
Soon after this affair, Lawrence was ordered to report at St. Louis.
"Now I suppose I can leave and join General Blair," said Lawrence, after
he had given General Schofield a full report of what had happened.
"I trust you will stay with me a while yet," answered the General. "As I
wrote you, I am about to take the field in person. We will have but
little rest until Hindman, who is gathering a large force in northern
Arkansas, is thoroughly whipped. There will be stirring times for the
next two months. Blair is not needing you yet. Grant's army is very
quiet--hasn't done much since Corinth fell and Memphis was taken. They
are making slow progress along the Mississippi now."
Lawrence agreed to stay in Missouri a while longer. He was granted a two
weeks' furlough, and then he was to report at Springfield.
The first use Lawrence made of his furlough was to visit his uncle, and
he found that personage greatly elated over the prospects of the South.
"I tell you, Lawrence," he exclaimed, "the independence of the South is
already as good as secured. Why, just consider: McClellan whipped on the
Peninsula, his army barely escaping; Pope completely crushed, his army
almost annihilated, the remnant seeking refuge in the fortifications
around Washington. Lee's army is sweeping victoriously through Maryland;
Harper's Ferry taken with ten thousand prisoners. It will only be a
matter of a few days until Washington is taken.
"Bragg is thundering at the very gates of Louisville. The whole of
Tennessee and Kentucky will soon be redeemed. Buell's army will be
driven across the Ohio. Grant has not gained a foot since the capture of
Corinth. He has not, and never will, get past Vicksburg, I tell you,
Lawrence, it's all over. The South has won."
"I admit, uncle," replied Lawrence, "that this has been a bad year for
us. But the war isn't over. The worst is yet to come. In the end the
South will be crushed."
"It cannot be! It cannot be!" cried his uncle, excitedly.
"Uncle, don't let us discuss the war," said Lawrence. "How long since
you heard from Edward? I am anxious to hear all the news."
"He was well the last time I heard from him," said Mr. Middleton, "but I
do not hear very often. It is harder to get letters through than it was;
but, thank God! those we do get don't come through the hands of that
traitor, Guilford Craig. You have heard no news of him, have you?"
"No; but it is curious his body was never found. There is little doubt
but that he fell at Pea Ridge, and that at the hands of his
step-brother."
"Served him right," growled Mr. Middleton.
"And Randolph Hamilton--what of him?" asked Lawrence.
"Randolph is also well, Edward writes."
"I am glad to hear that," answered Lawrence. "Randolph is a noble
fellow. Lola Laselle did a fine thing when she saved him. How is Mrs.
Hamilton now?"
"Mrs. Hamilton and Dorothy have gone to Europe," answered Mr. Middleton.
"Mr. Hamilton thought it best to take her away from the excitement of
the war."
"So Dorothy is gone," said Lawrence, "Well, she won't have to hold aside
her skirts for fear of contamination, if I happen to pass her on the
sidewalk."
"I thought you and Dorothy were great friends--kind of childish
sweethearts," replied his uncle.
"That was before I turned Yankee," laughed Lawrence.
"Ah, my boy, Dorothy is not the only one who has been disappointed in
you," sighed his uncle.
While Lawrence and Mr. Middleton were talking, a newsboy came running
down the street, yelling: "Extra! Extra! Terrible battle in Maryland.
McClellan whips Lee. Fifty thousand men killed."
Mr. Middleton rushed out and purchased a paper. It told of the great
battle at Antietam. He turned pale as he read, and his hands trembled so
he could scarcely hold the paper. Lawrence heard him murmur, "Thank God!
Edward was not in it."
Lawrence had no thought of exulting over the news in his uncle's
presence; instead, he told him that the first reports of a battle were
always exaggerated; but at the same time his heart was singing for joy.
Afterward, when the news came that Lee had succeeded in getting his army
safely across the Potomac, Mr. Middleton's hopes revived. It was a drawn
battle, after all.
There was one in St. Louis that Lawrence could not fail to visit, and
that was Lola Laselle, the girl who had taken his part on the steamboat,
when a forlorn, dirty, homeless boy, and who had chosen him for her
knight-errant when he went into the army.
Of all the young people Lawrence had associated with before the war,
Lola was one of the few who had remained faithful to the old flag, and
by so doing had been mercilessly cut by her young companions. But one
day Lola hid Randolph Hamilton to keep him from being arrested as a spy,
and this somewhat restored her to favor, especially with the Randolph
family.
No sooner did Lola see Lawrence than she ran toward him with
outstretched hands, crying, "Lawrence, Lawrence, is this indeed you? How
glad I am to see you! And how you have grown! Why, you are a man!"
"And I am afraid I have lost my little girl," said Lawrence, as he took
her hand, and gallantly raised it to his lips. "You have grown to almost
a young lady."
"I don't know whether I like it or not," said Lola. "I sometimes think I
had rather remain a little girl."
"I believe I am of your opinion," replied Lawrence, looking at her
admiringly.
"Why, am I growing homely?" pouted Lola.
"That's not it. If you were still a little girl, I--I might have been
permitted to kiss your cheek, instead of just your hand. Remember----"
"Stop! You mean thing!" commanded Lola, blushing furiously.
Lawrence gazed on her with admiration. She was certainly budding into a
most beautiful girl.
"Lola, you are splendid!" he cried, "I wouldn't have you a little girl
again. You are far ahead of any girl I know."
"How about Dorothy Hamilton?" she asked, mockingly.
"Dorothy Hamilton be hanged! How did you and she part?"
"Good friends. She and I correspond. After I saved Randolph, she could
not do enough for me."
"Then she has some heart. I am glad to hear it," answered Lawrence,
bitterly. "When I saved her from being crushed beneath the horse's feet,
she rewarded me by calling me a miserable Yankee."
"Maybe she will be good to you some time," said Lola. "Remember how she
used to cut me."
"I reckon I do," said Lawrence, "and it used to make me tearing mad.
Lola, of all the girls I used to associate with, you are the only one
who does not pass me with looks of contempt; but your friendship and
sympathy are worth all I have lost--yes, a thousand times more."
"Don't magnify my importance; but I shall always be your friend,
Lawrence," she said, simply.
They then fell to talking of other things, and Lawrence had to tell her
of all his experiences. When he told her of his capture by the
guerrillas, and how he had been ordered to be put to death, she
shuddered and turned so pale he thought she was going to faint.
"Stop! Stop!" she gasped. "It was awful--awful! I cannot bear it."
"Wait and let me tell you how I escaped death," said Lawrence.
When he had finished, her eyes, though bedewed with tears, were shining
with joy and pride.
"Lawrence," she cried, "I am prouder of you than ever. You were shown
mercy, because you were merciful; and I would have my knight-errant as
merciful as he is brave."
"How can he be otherwise, when she whose colors he wears is so kind and
merciful?" gallantly replied Lawrence, and, taking her little hand in
his, he raised it and pressed his lips against her trembling fingers.
"A true knight can always kiss the hand of the lady he serves," said
Lawrence. He then bade her good-bye, with the promise of coming again
before he went to the front.
Is it strange that, as he went on his way, his thoughts were all of the
beautiful girl he had just left? But, all unbidden, there arose before
him a mental vision of the face of another girl--a girl whose queenly
head was crowned with a wealth of golden hair, but whose eyes flashed
with scorn at the sight of him--whose very soul loathed the uniform he
wore; and he sighed, he hardly knew why.
Suddenly the thoughts of all girls were driven from his mind, for in the
crowd before him he saw a well-known face--the face of Carl Meyer. Carl
was a German boy, about a year older than Lawrence. It was he who had
induced Lawrence to join the Home Guards, and thus paved the way to his
acquaintance with Frank Blair. They had not met since the battle of
Wilson Creek, when Carl went back with a broken arm.
In a moment the two clasped hands, their eyes telling what their lips
refused to utter. At length Lawrence found voice. "My! how you have
grown!" he exclaimed; "and this,"--he touched the strap of a second
lieutenant on his shoulder--"Oh, Carl, I am so glad."
"And you," replied Carl, the joy gleaming in his honest eyes; "I see
it's Captain now."
"Come with me, Carl. I must hear all that has happened to you since the
last time we met."
In the privacy of Lawrence's room, Carl told his story--a story that
Lawrence listened to breathless attention.
"The wound which I received at Wilson Creek was a bad one," said Carl,
"and at first it was thought I would have to lose my arm; but I have it
yet, and a pretty good arm it is. After I had recovered, which was early
in January of this year, I was with the army which operated against New
Madrid and Island Number 10. Lawrence, you should have been with me. It
was glorious. The river fight--the mighty siege-guns--the great mortars
which hurled shells weighing hundreds of pounds. It was as if all the
thunders of heaven had gathered in one place to smite the earth.
"Then think of digging a canal twelve miles long, six miles of it
through heavy timber. Great trees were sawed off beneath the water, to
make a road for the transports."
"How could you do it? How could you do it?" broke in Lawrence.
"By standing on rafts or in boats and using saws with very long handles.
It was a giant's task, but at last it was completed. Not only this, but,
amid snow and chilling rains, bayous were waded, swamps considered
impassable struggled through; and at last New Madrid and Island Number
10 fell.
"The fruits of these victories were glorious: nearly two hundred cannon,
great and small; seven thousand prisoners, as many small arms, great
stores of the munitions of war, and several transports sunk. All of this
with a loss of only fifty."
"It was glorious, Carl," cried Lawrence. "No wonder you feel proud of
being one of an army that dared so much, and accomplished so much."
"Wait until you hear the rest," replied Carl. "After Island Number 10
fell, most of the army was sent to reinforce Halleck before Corinth; but
my command was left. We soon had possession of the Mississippi nearly to
Memphis; but rumors came of the Confederates building an immense fleet
of gunboats and ironclad rams.
"Our gunboats moved down and attacked, but were repulsed and driven
back. Colonel Charles Ellet had been given authority to build some rams.
He hastily constructed some out of old river steamboats, converting them
into engines of destruction. With these wooden rams, without cannon, and
without an armed crew, Colonel Ellet proposed to attack and destroy the
whole fleet.
"Eleven sharpshooters had been chosen and placed on the _Monarch_. I was
fortunate enough to be one of the eleven. We were the only armed men
aboard the ram. The _Monarch_ was commanded by Colonel Alfred Ellet, a
brother of Charles. Charles was aboard the ram, _Queen of the West_.
"It was dusk when we came to our fleet of gunboats anchored across the
Mississippi. Below them, a little above Memphis, lay the Rebel fleet,
anchored in a line across the river. There the two fleets lay like two
great beasts ready to spring on each other.
"Colonel Ellet anchored and waited for the morning. Hardly was it light
when there came the boom of a great gun. It was a beautiful morning, and
as the thunder of the gun reverberated over the water, thousands of the
people of Memphis rushed to the bluffs to witness the battle and, with
waving flags and shouts of encouragement, cheer their men on to victory.
"On, in imposing line, comes the Rebel fleet, the smokestacks of their
vessels belching forth great clouds of smoke, and their guns thundering
as they come. Now the guns of our fleet answer their thunder, and the
bluffs on which the people are gathered shake and tremble with the
concussion. A black wall of smoke settles down and hides our fleet from
view; only through the blackness can be seen the flashes of the great
guns.
"Hardly had the battle opened when Colonel Ellet signalled for his fleet
of rams to get under way. The _Queen of the West_ and the _Monarch_ got
off first, and straight for the wall of blackness, lit by the fitful
flashes, we steered. We entered that wall, and everything was blotted
from view--only around and about us was the roar of the great guns, the
bursting of shells.
"Suddenly, as if emerging from the mouth of a tunnel, we burst from the
cloud of smoke, and before us at full speed was coming the Rebel fleet,
nearly a dozen gunboats and ironclads, against two wooden, unarmed rams.
"Colonel Ellet never swerved; ahead at full speed he drove the _Queen of
the West_ for the _General Lovell_. We could see the tall figure of
Colonel Ellet standing on the hurricane-deck of the _Queen_. With his
hat he signalled his brother to steer for the _General Price_, and on
the two rams rushed, the _Queen_ slightly ahead.
"The _General Lovell_ drew out from their line and steered straight for
the _Queen_. Like two great monsters, the boats rushed at each other. We
forgot to cheer; we heeded not the thunder of battle; we could only look
at these two vessels rushing to what seemed certain destruction.
"Even the excited cheering of the crowd on the bluffs grew silent. With
tense nerves and white faces, they watched the two vessels. Coming as
they were, it meant the destruction of both. Would not one swerve to
avoid the coming blow? Still standing on the deck of his vessel, his eye
fixed on his prey, Ellet drove the _Queen_ forward--not a hair's breadth
would he swerve.
"Just before the shock came, the _General Lovell_ swerved to try to
avoid the coming blow--but too late. Full amidships the _Queen_ struck
her, cutting her through like a great knife, and the vessel sank beneath
the turbid waters of the river, all the crew not killed struggling in
the water.
"From the thousands on shore there came a mighty groan--a wail of agony
which seemed to throb and quiver through the air, making itself felt
even above the roar of the battle.
"Now was our turn. The _Monarch_ struck the _General Price_ a glancing
blow, not sinking her, but shaving off her starboard wheel; and she was
out of the fight.
"Before the _Queen_ could be disentangled from the wreck of the _General
Lovell_, the _Beauregard_ and _Van Dorn_ both attacked her. Colonel
Ellet fell with a ball through the knee; but as he lay on the deck, he
continued to direct the fight.[9]
[Footnote 9: Colonel Ellet died of his wounds.]
"The _Monarch_ saw the danger which threatened the _Queen of the West_,
and straight for the _Beauregard_ she went, crashing into that vessel's
side, and putting her out of the conflict.
"The Confederate fleet thought only of escape now. The battle drifted
down the river, past the city. The gunboats joined in the chase, and but
one Confederate vessel escaped. Those that had not been sunk or disabled
were run on the shore on the Arkansas side and set on fire by their
crews, before escaping into the swamp."
"Carl," cried Lawrence, "I would have given ten years of my life to have
seen that battle, and, like you, to have been a part of it."
"Very little part I had," replied Carl, modestly, "except to fire a few
shots when we were at close quarters. But after the fight--ach!
Lawrence, that is something worth telling."
"What was it, Carl?"
"Toward the close of the fight, a white flag was run up in the city of
Memphis. Colonel Ellet sent his son, a medical cadet, no older than
yourself, Lawrence, to demand the surrender of the city. He chose three
men, of whom I was one, to accompany him.
"We rowed ashore in a small boat, and landed in the midst of a howling,
excited mob of thousands.
"Young Ellet handed the message which his father had written to the
Mayor, and then we started for the postoffice. The mob closed in around
us--four men in the midst of thousands. They cursed, they howled; they
heaped upon us the most violent names; they threatened to tear us to
pieces.
"We reached the postoffice, ascended to the top of the building, and
began to lower the Confederate flag. A frenzy seized the crowd. They
surged to and fro; they howled and gnashed their teeth like beasts of
prey. Some drew revolvers and began shooting at us.
"'Don't fire back,' said young Ellet, coolly. 'They can not hit us this
high.'
"The Stars and Bars came down, and the glorious Stars and Stripes arose,
and as its folds unfurled to the breeze we swung our hats and gave a
rousing cheer; but I do not think we were heard above the roar of the
mob.
"Leaving the flag waving, we descended, and once more the mob surrounded
us, snarling, cursing and howling; but a great fear kept them from
tearing us to pieces.
"We walked through their midst as coolly as if we were being showered
with bouquets instead of curses, and reached our boat in safety."
"It was a brave thing to do, Carl. I wouldn't have missed hearing your
story for anything," said Lawrence, as he warmly shook his hand at
parting.
The next day Lawrence went to bid his uncle and aunt good-bye, before
starting for the front. As they talked, they were again interrupted by a
newsboy crying, "Extra! Extra! All about the great battle at Corinth!
Generals Price and Van Dorn whipped! The Missouri brigade annihilated!"
"What's that?" exclaimed Mr. Middleton, turning pale.
Lawrence secured a paper and gave it to him. He glanced at it and
groaned. It told how Van Dorn and Price had been disastrously defeated
before Corinth; how the Confederate Missouri brigade had charged up to
the very mouth of the cannon of Fort Robinette, and that but few of them
were left alive.
"We must hope for the best," said Lawrence, as he looked at the stricken
faces of his uncle and aunt; but he could say no more.
Mr. Middleton, with shaking limbs and halting footsteps, assisted his
wife to her room.
In St. Louis that night many sat weeping, yet hoping that their loved
ones were safe; for St. Louis had many a son in that battle, both on the
Federal side and the Confederate.
CHAPTER XII
THE NEWS FROM CORINTH
All the Missourians who had enlisted in the Confederate service had been
transferred to the east of the Mississippi River, and with them their
beloved General, Sterling Price.
It was a bitter blow to them, for they had to leave their State overrun
with Federals, and at the mercy of what they considered an inhuman foe.
The first months of their service in Mississippi had been tame. The
great Federal army which had laid siege to Corinth had been divided, the
Army of the Cumberland going east under Buell, and the Army of the
Tennessee, under General Grant, remaining in northern Mississippi and
western Tennessee. For three months there had been only desultory
fighting, no great battles.
At the Confederate camp at Baldyn, Mississippi, a group of officers of
the Missouri regiments were gathered in a tent, discussing the
situation. In the group was Edward Middleton, the son of Alfred
Middleton; Randolph Hamilton, brother of Dorothy; and last, but not
least, Benton Shelley, a step-brother of Guilford Craig.
Edward Middleton had become major of his regiment. He was everywher
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