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The Lost Army

by Thomas Wallace Knox · English · Gutenberg #45071 · 492,047 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Lost Army

Author: Thomas Wallace Knox


        
Release date: March 7, 2014 [eBook #45071]
                Most recently updated: March 15, 2018

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45071

Credits: Produced by David Widger from page images generously
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOST ARMY ***




Produced by David Widger from page images generously
provided by The Internet Archive








THE LOST ARMY

By Thomas W. Knox

Illustrated

The Werner Company

New York

1899

THE LOST ARMY.




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


|Let's go and enlist!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do they do it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“We want to enlist, General.”

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

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

“Coming sixteen,” both answered in a breath.

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

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

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

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

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




CHAPTER II. ST. LOUIS AND CAMP JACKSON.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jefferson Davis.

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

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

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

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

[Illustration: 025]

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

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

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

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

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

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




CHAPTER III. SECESSION IDEAS OF NEUTRALITY.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it, anyway?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




CHAPTER IV. ON THE ROAD TO GLORY.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Illustration: 043]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Illustration: 061]

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

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

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

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

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




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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Illustration: 079]




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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Illustration: 091]

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

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




CHAPTER XII. BATTLE OF WILSON'S CREEK.--DEATH OF GENERAL LYON.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Illustration: 105]

Colonel Snead adds:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




CHAPTER XIV. LOSSES IN BATTLE--THE RETREAT.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Illustration: 117]

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

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

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

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

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

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




CHAPTER XV. IN CAMP AT ROLLA--A PRIVATE EXPEDITION INTO THE ENEMY'S
COUNTRY.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No; what was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How so?” one of the boys asked.

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

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

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

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




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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When the meal was over Jack asked how much they owed for it. The man
said he did n't want anything, but if they had fifty cents to spare for
the children it might come handy. Accordingly Jack gave twenty-five
cents to one of the children, Harry gave the same amount to another, and
everything was satisfactory.

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




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


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

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

“Any Yanks about to-day?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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


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

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

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

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

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

[Illustration: 151]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he had stage-coaches, family-carriages, drays, hay-carts, in
fact all the kinds of 

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