"Colonel Lyon, the general directs that you take the road branching off
just below here and leading to the trestlework of the railroad. You are
to destroy as much of the trestle and the road-bed of the railroad as
you can, also burn all supplies and sheds containing the same."

"Very well; tell General Reynolds I will do my best," replied Colonel
Lyon. Then turning, he gave the necessary orders, and the Riverlawns
detached themselves from the other cavalry and galloped down the side
road indicated.

At this time McMinnville was but a small place, yet it boasted of a
newspaper, and the surrounding territory was rich in fruit and other
farms. The ground in spots was full of hollows, and over these the
railroad corporation had built a series of trestles, with here and there
a shed and a siding for freight cars.

Coming within sight of the trestle mentioned to him, Colonel Lyon found
it guarded by a small company of Southerners, determined-looking men,
about half uniformed, yet each with a trusty-looking gun in his hands.
The Southerners opened fire without any parleying, and two cavalrymen
were struck, although not seriously.

"They have a fine position, Colonel," remarked Lieutenant-Colonel
Gordon. "They are above us, and that planking on this side gives them a
first-class protection."

"That is right, Gordon; but we'll dislodge them fast enough," answered
Noah Lyon, confidently. A leader somewhat against his will, he had now
studied up military tactics in dead earnest, and with him, as with his
son Deck, nothing was an impossibility.

The first battalion was ordered to halt and take a safe place behind a
slight rise of ground to the northwest of the trestle. The second was
marched around to the north, and the third to the south. This done, the
party above was pretty well surrounded. Half a dozen shots were
exchanged, but the planking mentioned protected the Confederates, and
they did not budge.

It would have been easy to have advanced upon the party from both ends
of the trestlework, but this would have cost a severe loss of life, and
the humane colonel was for protecting his men from all injury if the
thing could be done.

While Colonel Lyon was debating in his mind what should be his next
movement, Artie came up and saluted, having received the proper
permission from his major. The young captain observed the formalities as
though the colonel was of no relationship to him.

"Colonel, I have to report something which may be of importance to you,"
he said.

"Well, Captain, what is it?" smiled the colonel. "A sure way to defeat
the enemy?"

"Our company has discovered that a barrel of tar lies at the northeast
end of the trestle. A freight car above was broken open, and I think the
barrel was jounced out, as the road-bed seems to be very uneven,
especially at the curve."

"The tar will certainly be useful to us, Artie."

"Yes, sir, especially as the wind is blowing from the northeast," went
on the captain. "Tar, you know, makes a good, thick smoke."

The colonel stared for an instant, then a smile came into his face.

"Artie, I see you are bound to be a general like Deck. Your plan is to
smoke the enemy out."

"I only mentioned what we had found, and how the wind was blowing," was
the modest return.

"It amounts to the same thing. You can light that barrel, and roll it as
close up to the enemy as you dare. I will send the third battalion
around to the lower end of the trestle. Send Major Belthorpe to me."

Artie retired, and presently Tom Belthorpe came dashing up. He was told
to keep a strict watch through the smoke for the enemy, should they turn
up the tracks. Then Colonel Lyon galloped off with the third battalion
in the opposite direction.

It was not long before the tar barrel was blazing merrily, and to add to
the smoke some of the soldiers threw on a mass of dead and wet brush.
The dense cloud rolled upward, and the wind carried it directly to the
spot where the Confederates were located. In the midst of the smoke the
barrel was rolled closer, until it set fire to the northeast end of the
trestle.

Blinded and choked, the Confederates fired several volleys at random,
and were then compelled to seek some spot where a breath of pure air
might be obtained. Some ran up the tracks and some down, and these
engaged the second and the third battalions. A few, risking life and
limb, leaped from the trestle through the advancing fire beneath; but
these were captured by Major Deck's command, each man being fully
covered as he landed.

To Life Knox's gallant seventh company fell the lot of resisting the
majority of those who had defended the trestle, and a desperate conflict
took place in a small hollow at a second trestle above the first. The
Confederate company was scarcely drilled, yet each man knew how to
shoot, and when surrounded the fellows discarded their arms, and used
their fists and such clubs as they had picked up on the railroad. As one
Irishman in the seventh company declared afterward, "It was the most
delightful Donnybrook fair he had seen since lavin' the ould country!" A
private of Kentuckian blood declared, "They didn't know enough as
soldiers to surrender, but jest fit, an' fit, an' fit!" This pitched
battle was laughed over for many a day afterward. In the end, however,
every Confederate was taken prisoner.

By the time the contest closed, the trestle was burning at a furious
rate, and the regiment was ordered further along. Inside of an hour they
found themselves in McMinnville, and here the battalions were divided.
A portion of a Confederate regiment had taken a stand at a cotton mill
not a great distance from the depot, and Deck's battalion was sent to
the place to dislodge them.

With the intrepid major at the head, the four companies advanced on the
double-quick until the cotton mill in question was gained. A halt was
made, and as several shots were fired, the major directed his companies
to take shelter behind a number of outbuildings. Here several
Confederates were brought to light and made prisoners.

The taking of the cotton mill looked as if it would be a much harder
task than had been that of deposing the company at the trestle. The
Confederates were located at every window and door of the building, and
as soon as any one of Deck's command appeared he was fired upon.
Moreover, the mill stood in a plot of ground by itself, so it could not
be approached excepting by a dash through the open.

"We have a nice bit of work cut out for us now, Major," observed Captain
Abbey, of the first company, as he gazed at the solid-looking building
in perplexity. "That makes a first-class fort."

"I was thinking as much myself," answered Deck.

"Can't we smoke them out--as we did down to the railroad?"

"There is nothing at hand with which to build a fire. I wouldn't care to
burn the fellows up, either."

"Then let them come out and surrender."

"The mill is on fire!" suddenly shouted some one. "The enemy must have
set the blaze themselves."

The report was correct, and in a minute more a heavy volume of smoke
burst from several windows. Men leaped from half a dozen openings, and
in a short while enough had gathered to form a good-sized company.

"Charge!" yelled a captain, savagely. "Break right through the Northern
mudsills!"

And the Confederates charged, straight for the two companies commanded
by Captain Richland and Artie Lyon.




CHAPTER XII

IN THE BURNING COTTON MILL


The two companies were in such positions that Captain Artie's command
would be the first to receive the charge of the Confederates, who were
coming on yelling like demons. The enemy felt that the chances of escape
were slim, and came on in sheer desperation; and a crowd of desperate
men can accomplish a good deal at times.

But Artie, youthful as he was, did not quail. As rapidly as it could be
accomplished, he wheeled to one side and shouted to his first line to
"Take aim--fire!" And the blaze of the carbines caused a temporary
check.

As the Confederates came on again, the second line emptied their
weapons. Again there was a halt, and the enemy's line split, as though
the men had thought better of it and were desirous of running around the
Union soldiers.

Artie saw the movement and turned to Captain Richland. "I can take care
of the crowd on the right," he said.

"All right; I'll take that on the left," was the quick reply, and the
third company of the first battalion opened fire, while Artie's command
double-quicked to the new position indicated.

Again came a charge against the fourth company. But the force of the
Confederates now numbered but eighteen, and with two men shot down they
retreated as quickly as they had charged, and sought shelter behind the
cotton mill. Here the first company dislodged them, and then they threw
down their arms.

The other wing, led by the impetuous captain, hurled itself against
Captain Richland's company. The Confederate leader was supported by half
a dozen "fire-eaters," and about two score men; and although the charge
was not entirely successful, yet in the general mГЄlГ©e resulting, the
captain and about half of those behind him managed to escape. The others
were either shot down or added to the prisoners previously taken.

The mill was now burning furiously at one end, making one of the
hottest fires the Lyon boys had ever witnessed. In it were stored
hundreds of bales of cotton which the owners had been trying to work off
in one way or another for months, but without success, for the cotton
trade of the Southern states was glutted, the blockade runners from
Europe carrying away only a small portion of the product.

"That building is doomed," observed Deck to Artie, who had come up,
breathing heavily after his hard work in disarming a burly ruffian who
had tried to cut him down from behind. "We may as well move on with our
prisoners."

Deck had scarcely spoken, when a cry rent the air. The cry came in a
man's voice, and was full of agony and terror.

"Help! help! help!"

"The cry comes from the other end of the mill," exclaimed Artie. "Come
on around and see what is up," and he ran off; for he was on foot, as
was also the major.

The end to which the captain had referred was not yet in a blaze, but
the smoke was curling from every opening, showing that the fire was
making rapid headway in that direction. Presently came a change in the
wind, causing the smoke to veer around.

"It's a man--in that upper window!" ejaculated Artie, pointing with his
hand. "Why don't you jump down?" he yelled.

"I can't!" came in a painful gasp. "My leg is caught fast in some
machinery and I can't loosen it. Save me, for the love of Heaven! Don't
let me die like this--even if I am a Confederate!"

"Caught fast!" echoed Deck. "Can't you break away at all?"

"No! no! Reckon my leg is broken!" The unfortunate one gave a moan of
pain. "Won't you do something for me?"

"I will--if it can be done," answered Deck. He turned to the cavalrymen
standing near. "Boys, have any of you seen a ladder about?"

One and another shook their heads. "There's a box," said one, "but it's
not over three feet high, and the window is twenty feet up."

"The box won't do. How about a rope?"

"Here's a stout cord," said another.

"Not heavy enough."

"Help me--quick! The fire is coming this way!" shrieked the imperilled
Confederate. "Save me, and I'll give you all I'm worth!"

"I'm coming!" answered Deck. "I wonder where the stairs are," he half
muttered, as he turned toward one of the entrances to the mill.

"For gracious' sake, Deck, what are you going to do?" cried Artie.

"Going to that fellow's aid."

"But it's not safe to enter the building. The fire is working this way
just as hard as it can."

"I'll risk it, Artie; I don't want to see that poor fellow die like a
rat in a trap."

"Yes, but--but--"

"There is no time to waste, Artie," answered Deck, and breaking away
from the hold the captain had taken, he leaped for the wide-open door of
the mill.

"If he goes, I'll go too," cried Artie, and started to follow the major;
but strong hands held him back.

"One is enough," said Captain Abbey. "I trust he is successful."

Captain Richland shook his head seriously. "The fire is sweeping to
this quarter of the building with great swiftness," he remarked.

Into the building rushed Deck, to find himself at once in an atmosphere
charged with smoke, yet not so heavily but that he could see about him.
To his left was a rough wooden stairway with an iron rod for a
hand-rail. Leaping for this, he began to mount the stairs three steps at
a time.

The higher up he went, the thicker became the smoke, and on the upper
flooring he could scarcely breathe. Bending low, to get the benefit of
any air which might be circulating, he crept along in the direction of
the Confederate sufferer. He had gone but a dozen steps when he halted.
Before him was what appeared to be a solid wooden partition.

"Hi! where are you?" he called out; but the fire had now crept so close
that the crackling of the flames drowned out every other sound. Feeling
that it would be a waste of precious time to remain where he was, he ran
along the wooden barrier from one end to the other. A door at last was
found, but it was tightly closed and refused to budge.

Taking his sabre, Deck attempted to get it in the crack between the door
and its frame. The point only could be introduced, and not caring to
break this off, he withdrew the blade. By this time the smoke was making
him dizzy, and he flew for a window to get some air.

"Help!" he heard the Confederate cry again, and now made a discovery he
fancied would be of advantage to him in his endeavor to assist the
unfortunate man. The window to which he had made his way was within two
feet of the wooden partition, while the window at which the Confederate
was calling from was an equal distance from the partition, on the other
side. The two windows, therefore, were but four feet apart.

As has been mentioned, it was twenty feet to the ground, a distance
great enough to cause serious results should the major take a tumble.
But Deck did not count the consequences. He was going to help the rebel
if he could.

Crawling forth, he turned on the window-sill and stood upright. The
framing was not over six inches in depth and was plain, affording but a
scant hold. He had hardly appeared when a shout went up from below.
"There is the major now!"

"Major, look out there, or you'll break your neck!"

These and other remarks were made, but Deck paid no attention further
than to "look out," whatever that might mean. In reality his gaze was
fastened on the window next to him, and now he leaned over and caught
hold of the edging. But at this distance the hold was too uncertain to
be depended upon, and he drew back.

The question of what was to be done next was a serious one. The wind had
shifted again, giving a temporary check to the fire in that direction;
but it would shift back, and then Deck felt the end of the mill would be
close at hand. He looked at the next window again.

A large nail caught his eye, fastened at the top of the frame. He felt
that this would hold, if only he could reach it. He took off his sabre
belt and examined it.

The belt was strong and so was the buckle, and leaning over he threw one
end of the belt out, not once, but several times. At last a portion of
the buckle caught over the nail. He pulled on the leather to make sure
it would bear his weight, then swung to the sill of the next window with
ease.

"Thank Heaven!" he heard the Confederate ejaculate. The man had been
holding himself up as far as possible, but had now dropped flat on his
back.

Despite the smoke, the major soon took in the situation. The Confederate
had stepped upon the lever of a compressor; the jaw of the machine had
opened, and his leg had been caught and held. Whether the limb was
broken or not, the major could not tell; but it was certain the
unfortunate one was suffering intense pain, and this, added to his
fright because of the fire, made him truly an object of compassion.

"Can you--you--release me?" he groaned, and he seemed to be on the point
of fainting.

For reply Deck grasped the lever and attempted to force it back. It was
stuck, and he had to exert all his strength to move it even an inch.
Seeing an iron rod handy, he used it as another kind of lever, and with
a click the jaws of the machine opened, and the Confederate was free.

"What shall I do?" he asked, in a whisper. "I--I can't walk."

"I will carry you," answered Deck. "Wait just a second."

He bounded along the wooden partition to where the door was situated.
The air was tremendously hot, and the wind was shifting back. As he
gained the door there was a dull booming, as a portion of the flooring
in another department of the mill gave way, and the whole structure
began to shake.

The door was merely latched and he flung it wide open. But this created
a draught, and he closed it again; then ran back for the Confederate.
The poor fellow had fainted.

The load was a heavy one, but in the excitement Deck could have carried
twice the weight. Flinging his burden over his right shoulder, he
staggered through the smoke. The room was now ablaze overhead, and the
sparks fell thickly upon his unprotected head and neck.

"God see us both through this in safety!" was the silent prayer which
came from his heart, and now the door was reached again. In a moment
more he stood in the apartment he had first entered. A look of
consternation spread over his pale, set face.

The fire had been at work overhead, running from end to end of the mill
roof. Now it had worked its way downward, and that part of the ceiling
above the stairway was a seething and roaring mass of flames and smoke.
It looked as if at any instant a portion of the roof might cave in,
burying the whole stairway beneath it.

Should he risk a descent? Deck's heart almost stood still as he asked
himself the question. He was brave, even to rashness; but this was very
much like courting death. For the moment he thought of home, his mother,
and of sweet Kate Belthorpe. Should he risk being torn from all that was
dear to him?

Another booming decided him. The fire had come down behind him, cutting
off his retreat. He must go forward or give up the struggle. With
another silent prayer that Heaven might guide and protect him, he
grasped his burden closer and advanced to the top of the stairs. Soon he
was hurrying downward as rapidly as the weight on his shoulder would
permit. Five steps were passed and he paused.

A blazing board had come down directly in front of him. As he stood
still, another came down, striking him on the unoccupied shoulder. He
waited no longer, but, calculating as well as he could, made a clean
leap to the bottom.

Luckily he landed squarely, and, though his burden made him stagger, he
did not fall. As he started for the open doorway, there was a crash, and
the stairway became a thing of the past. The young major had missed
death by less than five seconds.

How he gained the open air, Deck could not tell afterward. The smoke was
so thick he could not see, and breathing was out of the question. "Out
there--help me!" he yelled, when he saw the light, and then Artie and
several others ran to his aid. Two cavalrymen took the unconscious
Confederate and laid him on the grass.

"Deck, are you hurt?" asked the young captain, anxiously, seeing how
pale the young officer was. The major could not stand upright.

"Hurt? No--I'm--I'm--all right," was the answer; and then the gallant
youth fainted dead away.

With the wounded, he was carried on a stretcher to the nearest
ambulance. Artie was permitted to go along, and Captain Abbey took
command of the battalion. The Confederate was placed among the wounded
of his own company.

Colonel Lyon was not near the mill, and it was not until night that he
heard Deck was sick. The major did not recover consciousness for an
hour, and then it was found he had a fever. That night was an anxious
one for both the colonel and the young captain, and the morning brought
small comfort. Deck was out of his mind, and the doctor was afraid he
had inhaled too much smoke, and possibly some of the flames.

"The boy meant well, but he overdid the matter," said Colonel Lyon,
sadly. "I warned him over and over again to be more careful; but he was
too anxious to make a record for himself to listen to me. If anything
happens to him, what will his mother and the others say?"




CHAPTER XIII

AN ADVANCE ALL ALONG THE LINE


General Bragg, the Confederate commander, had established his
headquarters at Tullahoma, but his troops lay some twenty or thirty
miles to the north of that town, in a grand semicircle extending from
Wartrace on the east, through Shelbyville to Columbia on the west. The
troops numbered about forty thousand, of all sorts, according to the
commander's own report, and a larger portion of them were sheltered
behind hastily constructed intrenchments.

Although Bragg occupied this advanced position, General Rosecrans was
certain that should the Confederate be unable to hold Shelbyville and
the surrounding territory, he would retreat to his stronger
intrenchments at Tullahoma. This town, situated on the rocky bank of
Duck River and surrounded by mountainous passes, was an ideal
stronghold. Once the Southern forces should retreat to it, to follow
them would be extremely hazardous, for the Confederates could easily
command the river and every defile, and pour in a hot fire without
permitting the Union troops to get a shot in return.

Under these circumstances, General Rosecrans determined, if possible, to
cut off the Confederate's chances of retreating to Tullahoma, or, at
least, of retreating by the direct way. To do this, he determined to
turn the enemy's right, and then make a dash for the railroad bridge at
Elk River. Once he had turned the enemy's right and gained the bridge,
Bragg, if he retreated, would have to go to Tullahoma by side roads,
where both armies would have an equal chance in fighting, so far as the
lay of the land was concerned.

In all military operations, one of the main elements of success lies in
the fact of keeping the other fellow guessing what you are going to do
until you do it; and, in order to blind General Bragg as to his real
intention, General Rosecrans started in by making an attack on the
Confederate centre, as though he intended to push through at that point
if he could. While this was going on he hurried his main divisions
around to the enemy's right.

The army numbered many thousands of infantry, cavalry, and artillery;
the battle-ground extended over many miles of territory; and to get
every regiment in its proper place was no light task. Messages flew
hither and thither, carried by telegraph and by horseback messengers,
and many a detail was completed only to be totally altered at the last
moment. And while this was going on, a close watch had to be kept on the
enemy, for fear he would make some movement never dreamed of by our
troops.

After months of preparation and numerous small conflicts, the army began
to move on the 23d of June, 1863. It was divided into three corps, the
right under McCook, the centre under Thomas, and the left under
Crittenden. The weather was by no means favorable; and soon it was
raining in torrents, rendering the roads a mass of liquid mud, and
swelling even the smaller streams to such an extent that they could
scarcely be forded. In a campaign lasting nine days, General Rosecrans
declares that their advance was delayed ninety hours by the elements.

After their work along the railroad in the vicinity of McMinnville, the
Riverlawns were ordered to Triune, where they went into camp just
outside of the town, on the bank of a little creek backed up by a hemp
field. Their hospital tent was located in the midst of this field, and
here, on a cot, lay Deck, suffering in a manner that was new to the
doctors caring for him. At times the major was out of his mind, then he
would be rational, but so weak he could scarcely talk.

"It's awful--simply awful," said Artie, to his Cousin Sandy one day.
"It's the worst case I ever heard of."

"It is too bad," replied the second lieutenant, of Captain Gadbury's
command. "I wish I could do something for him, I really do."

There was a great change in Sandy Lyon. He was no longer the wild fellow
he had been. Army discipline had made a man of him, and he was a
first-class soldier in every sense of the word. Only one thing he
regretted, that being that he had not become attached to the Engineering
Corps. He declared that as soon as the war was over he was going to
study hard and become an architect and builder.

The change in Titus Lyon was also great. He had kept the pledge, and
his brother Noah could not have had a more useful adjutant. The brothers
were real brothers once more, much to the satisfaction of Titus's wife
and daughters, as well as the other members of the Lyon family at large.

At last Colonel Lyon began to think of sending Deck home, although he
hated the thought of having the youth where he could not see him
constantly. Moreover, Mrs. Lyon had not been informed of how much Deck
was suffering, and the truth might give her a shock.

It was three weeks previous to the movement of the army upon the
Confederate forces that the major began to mend. At first the change was
gradual, but inside of ten days he was up on his feet. His appetite now
came back, and he began to walk around, declaring that he would soon be
as well as ever.

"Deck, you must take no more such risks--I positively forbid it," said
Colonel Lyon, when calling on his son one evening.

"All right, father, I'll try to be more careful," answered Deck, with a
faint smile. "To tell the truth, I didn't realize what a risk it was
until it was too late to turn back. On that account, I don't think I am
half the hero the boys are making me out to be."

"I have a letter for you," continued the colonel, producing the
communication. "It will certainly interest you, for it is from the
Confederate soldier you rescued from the mill."

"Is that so? How is he doing?"

"He is doing too much--he got so well that he ran away yesterday."

"Ran away!"

"Exactly; and left that letter behind. Read it," and Deck did so. The
communication ran as follows:--

     "MAJOR DEXTER LYON:--

     "_My Dear Sir:_ I am on the point of trying to make my escape
     from the sick camp in which I have been placed by your Union
     hospital surgeons. It is a rather shabby way to act after such
     kindness, but I have no hankering after a life in a Northern
     prison pen.

     "Before I leave, and knowing well I shall run the risk of being
     shot down, I wish to thank you for your goodness in rescuing me
     from the burning cotton mill. You did more for me than I think
     I should have done for any Northern man--you risked your life
     to save mine. Major Lyon, I thank you from the bottom of my
     heart, and if it ever comes in my power to do you a good turn
     I shall do it--no matter what it may cost me. I thank you
     again.

          "Yours respectfully,

                "THOMAS DERWIDDIE,

                    "_Tennessee Volunteers._"

"Did they follow Thomas Derwiddie up?" asked Deck, as he folded the
letter. It was written on a scrap of very old and dirty newspaper, in
pencil.

"They tried to; but they could not catch him. I reckon by this time he
is well within the Southern lines."

"He is certainly very thankful," mused the major. "Come what may, it
would seem that I have one friend in the South--although it is likely I
shall never see or hear of him again."

"That is true, Deck; yet it must make you feel glad to know the fellow
appreciates your kindness."

"It does, father; I shall prize the letter very highly," and Deck placed
it in an inner pocket. When next he wrote to Kate Belthorpe he enclosed
the communication with his own, and Kate thought almost as much of one
letter as of the other.

The first cavalry division, under General Mitchell, was located near
Triune, and this division now moved forward, on the Eagleville and
Shelbyville turnpike, in the direction of the enemy's centre and left.
Less than half an hour after came the order for the Riverlawns to move
in a similar manner.

"Hurrah! we'll soon be in it again!" cried Captain Artie, rushing into
his company street with the news. "Get to moving, boys; for there is no
time to lose. We are going to smash the rebs this trip."

"Well, I hope so," said Black, his first lieutenant. "How about your
brother, the major?"

"Deck is going along. My father doesn't like to hear of it; but the
major says he is feeling all right again. I reckon he will take it a bit
easy, though."

There was little time to say more, for the call to move made plenty of
work for everybody. Every man was supplied with twelve days' rations of
bread, coffee, sugar, and salt, and six days' rations of pork and bacon,
while other meat was carried "on the hoof," as it was expressed, that
is, alive, the animals being driven along in droves, or tied to the
rear of the supply wagons.

"I'm glad we're going to move, but I'd just as lief have clear weather
for it," observed Life Knox, as he came up, shaking the water from his
military cape. "Captain Lyon, do you feel like taking a dash of some ten
or twelve miles on horseback with me?"

"A dash--where to?" queried Artie, stopping in his operations of
strapping his belongings together.

"The general wants to learn in what condition the side road to the
southeast is in, and he has detailed me to make an investigation. I can
take any one along whom I please, and I thought of you and Deck; but
Deck is not fit to go, even though I have seen him around on his
faithful old Ceph."

"The side roads are probably drowned out," laughed Artie. "But I'll go,
with pleasure--scouting always did just hit me right," and without delay
he turned over his command to Lieutenant Black.

Inside of a quarter of an hour, the two captains were off, each mounted
on his favorite horse, each fully armed, and each carrying his rations
with him. The rain came down steadily, and the horses sent the water
flying in all directions as they pushed their way along over a turnpike
covered with pools.

"Does the general think of sending troops by that side road?" asked
Artie, presently, as a turn hid them from their late companions, who had
wondered where they were going.

"Nothing was said about that, and I didn't ask any questions," returned
Life. "My private opinion is, he wants to make sure the road can be used
in case the rebels try to break through our corps."

"They wouldn't dare to do that."

"They might dare anything, Artie. Bragg has some fine soldiers under
him--not the least doubt of that. The more I see of this campaign, the
more I am convinced that the war will not end until there has been an
immense amount of blood shed. We began in a haphazard sort of way, but
we are speedily getting down to business."

"I agree with you there, Life. Of course Bragg will drive us back to
Kentucky, if he can; in fact, he'll drive us through Indiana into the
Lakes, if we let him. But we are not going to let him," concluded the
youthful captain of the fourth company.

They had been moving along a level road, but now a second turn took them
up a gentle slope, from the top of which a bird's-eye view of a small
stretch of country could be obtained. Behind them, to the right and the
left, many companies of soldiers, afoot and on horseback, could be seen
advancing southward.

"There is the road we are to investigate," said Life, pointing with his
long forefinger. "By the lay of the land, I should say it doesn't amount
to anything. The infantry and cavalry may get through, but never the
artillery."

"Well, all we can do is to make an examination and report," answered
Artie. "But see here, why isn't a detail of the Engineering Corps doing
this work?"

"Every man is engaged elsewhere. Besides, we are to look for rebels
while we are at it. The general is inclined to believe there are spies
in this vicinity. If we run across any such cattle, we are to lasso them
and bring them in."

After this, the two relapsed into silence, for the rain was driving into
their faces, and it was difficult to talk while muffled up in their
storm capes. They descended the slope on the other side, then turned
into a small woods, where the tall trees afforded some shelter.

Two miles had been covered, and the horses were making good time on a
rocky road-bed, when, looking ahead, they saw a split in the highway.
One branch ran to the southward, the second, a few points to the
eastward.

"Which is which?" asked Artie, as he drew rein.

"That's the riddle. One road looks as if it was travelled about as much
as the second."

"And neither very much, Life."

"I think we had better try the one to the right."

"And I was going to suggest the one on the left."

"Well, they can't both be right."

"No, only one is right--the other is left," laughed the young captain.

"And you'll be left to take the left," said the tall Kentuckian. "But,
seriously, which had we better follow?"

"I don't know--unless we toss up for it."

"There may be sign-boards about. Let us look."

They made a careful survey of all the trees and posts in the vicinity,
but nothing like a guide-post came to light. If there had been signs,
the enemy had removed them long before.

"I have a suggestion to make," said Artie, as the pair came together in
the road again. "Let us each take to a road and ride, say, quarter of a
mile. Then we can return and compare notes."

"That would certainly be better than halting in the rain, Artie. It's
settled, and I'm off," and using his spurs, Life Knox dashed away down
the road to the right. A few seconds later, Artie took the road to the
left, little dreaming of the adventure that was in store for him.




CHAPTER XIV

ARTIE IS MADE A PRISONER


Life Knox had been right; the road he had taken was the correct one,
while that which Artie was pursuing was merely a side trail, joining the
main road again about a half mile beyond. The side road led up to a
plantation owned by Colonel Dick Bradner, one of the most zealous
Confederates in the State of Tennessee.

Colonel Bradner was a military man, but he was not now in active
service. In his younger days he had served in the Mexican War, and had
gained, under General Taylor, a commission as first lieutenant in the
volunteer army of that date. His military ardor had cost him his right
arm and his left leg, and, being thus crippled, further service was out
of the question.

Colonel Bradner had always been a fire eater, hot to the last degree;
and if he had had his way, war between the North and the South would
have broken out in '58 instead of '61. For a time he had drawn a
pension from the government at Washington; but this was now cut off, and
the loss made the military gentleman more bitter than ever, if such a
thing were possible.

The plantation on the side road was one of good size. In days gone by it
had flourished, and been a source of riches to the colonel and his wife,
the only members of the household. The slaves had numbered sixty-five,
all able-bodied, and all worth five hundred dollars each at the auction
block in Memphis. Now all but six of the slaves had run away, the
plantation was neglected, and what there had been of stores had been
given to the Confederate forces, simply from the fact that, had they not
been given up, friend or foe would have confiscated them as one of the
necessities of the great conflict.

Unaware that he was wrong, and likewise unaware that he was "running his
head into the lion's mouth," Artie galloped down the side trail, sending
a shower of mud up against the trees as he passed them by. Not a soul
was in sight, and it looked as if the neighborhood, for miles around,
was deserted.

Presently he reached a negro hut--the first belonging to the Bradner
plantation. The door stood wide open, the rain beating far in over the
sill. A brief survey convinced the young captain that the abode was
deserted.

"The negroes have grown scared, and run for it," he mused, as he
continued on his way. "Hullo, there's another cabin, and another. I've
struck some village, I reckon--or a plantation. If somebody would only
appear--ah!"

Through the low-hanging trees he had caught sight of the mansion,
standing between an avenue of pines. To the front was a path of sand,
and to the rear a small brook. The fields were on the other side of the
brook.

"That looks as deserted as were those cabins," thought Artie, when he
saw a woman pass hastily by one of the parlor windows. Concluding that
the men were off to the war, and that the lady was the only person left
at home, he turned up the sandy path and rode to the front porch, where
he dismounted, and used the heavy brass knocker attached to the oaken
door.

His arrival had been noticed, yet it was several minutes before anybody
answered his summons. In the meantime he heard a spirited murmur of
voices, as though two persons in the hallway were discussing the
situation.

It was Mrs. Dick Bradner who let him in,--a short, stout woman of fifty,
with piercing black eyes and jet-black hair. Her skin was as dark as
that of a mulatto, and her features were by no means prepossessing.

"Well?" she snapped, as she threw back the door.

"I stopped for a bit of information," replied Artie, as he bowed and
came into the hallway, a wide affair, running directly through to the
rear.

"What is it you wish to know?" was the short query, as snappy as her
first greeting had been.

"I am a bit mixed on the roads. There is a split about an eighth of a
mile above here, and I would like to know if this is the regular road,
or if the other road is."

"You're a Yankee officer, I take it."

"I am, madam."

"What company do you belong to?"

"I am captain of the fourth company of the Riverlawn Cavalry, of
Kentucky."

"The Riverlawns!" came in something like a gasp. "Well, I never! Dick!
Dick!"

"Well, Martha, what?" growled the colonel, from an inner room. "Send him
about his business."

"He belongs to the Riverlawns, Dick,--that cavalry--"

"Hush, Martha." There was the stumping of a wooden leg, and Colonel
Bradner appeared. "So you belong to the Riverlawns, Captain? Come in, I
would like to talk to you."

"I haven't much time to talk, sir," answered Artie. "I must be on my
way. If you will tell me about the roads--"

"In a minute, Captain, in a minute. But I would like a little
information myself--about the Riverlawns."

"Yes, we want to know all about them," put in Mrs. Bradner. "My
brother--"

"Martha, do let me do the talking," interrupted the colonel, with a
significant look behind Artie's back which the captain failed to catch.
"Walk into the sitting room, where there is a small fire. I can't go
without some fire on a damp day, even in June. The rheumatism is too
bad in my poor stumps. Come in."

The colonel led the way, and Artie followed, although the delay was not
to his taste. Yet he was curious to learn what his host wanted to know
concerning the cavalry his father (so called) commanded. Perhaps the
lady's brother belonged to one of the companies, despite the fact that
she was a Tennesseean.

The sitting room was a cheerful place, and the fire felt decidedly
comfortable, and Artie wished he was not in a hurry. Colonel Bradner
shoved a cane rocker toward him, and sank down on a lounge. Feeling that
his wet clothing would not hurt a cane rocker, Artie sat down.

"By the way, Martha, tell Joe and Sam to come in," said the colonel, in
an off-handed way. "They must clean up that cellar before the rain ruins
everything. Tell them to clean out that back pantry the first thing."

"But, Dick--"

"Never mind, my dear, tell them;" and the head of the house waved his
wife off, winking at her when Artie was not looking. The wink satisfied
the lady more than did her husband's words, and she moved off in deep
thought.

"So you belong to the Riverlawns, Captain. What company, if I may ask?"

"I am captain of the fourth company, Mr. ----"

"Excuse me, I should have introduced myself and my wife. Colonel Dick
Bradner, at your service."

"You are not in active service, Colonel," and Artie smiled faintly.

"Do I look as if I was? But I have seen service, young man, having gone
all through the Mexican War."

"Indeed! I am glad to meet you, sir. But about the Riverlawns and Mrs.
Bradner's brother--"

"I'll get there in a moment, Captain. You see I am getting old and
long-winded. I used to stump the State during election time, but I'm
getting so tiresome now nobody will listen to me."

"I am listening, Colonel. But I have a duty to perform which must be
accomplished as soon as possible."

"I reckon I need not ask what it is. It's none of my business, of course
not."

"What were you going to ask me concerning our regiment?" asked Artie,
half desperately, for he was afraid the crippled colonel would keep him
there all day.

"I wanted to ask you if your command did not take part in an engagement
at Greeger Lake, last fall?"

"We did."

"What was the result of that engagement?"

"We took about five hundred guerillas prisoners, and--"

"Guerillas! Do you dare to call our troops--Oh! pshaw, go on,--what did
you do?"

"We took about five hundred guerillas prisoners, and to keep them from
eating up our rations, marched them back into Tennessee, where they
belonged."

"And confiscated their horses and their money?"

"No, we turned their horses loose; that was all. I never heard anything
about any money," answered Artie, promptly.

He tried to appear at ease, but he was much worried. The veteran of the
Mexican War was turning out to be a strong Southern sympathizer. It
looked as if there might be trouble before he left the house.

"I understand some of the soldiers had their money taken from them. But
that was to be expected of the Yankees--they don't know what honor is."

"Colonel Bradner, I did not come here to be insulted!" exclaimed Artie,
leaping to his feet. "I have answered your questions, now I would like
you to answer mine. What about this road in front of your house? Is it
the main road, or is it not?"

"It is the main road--to my plantation."

"Then the other road is the main road?"

"Yes."

"That is all I wish to know, and I'll bid you good afternoon," replied
the young captain, and backed toward the hallway door.

"You're not going just yet, are you?" asked Colonel Bradner, with a
quizzical tone in his voice.

"I am," said Artie, and not liking that tone, he swung around, to find
himself confronted by Mrs. Bradner and two burly negroes, each of the
latter with a gun in his hands.

"Up with your hands, Captain, or Joe and Sam will blow off your head,"
commanded the cripple, and drew at the same time a pistol from his hip
pocket. The pistol was pointed at Artie's breast, while each of the guns
was aimed at the side of his head.

Artie was brave, and in some instances as rash as Deck; but there were
times when he kept his head cool, and this was one of these times. He
had both pistol and sabre in his belt, but he knew that the slightest
movement to use either of the weapons would mean to him either serious
injury or death. And he was just then of a mind to keep his skin whole.

"Do you surrender?" demanded Colonel Bradner, after a painful pause,
during which Artie had been doing a powerful lot of thinking.

"I don't see what else I can do," was the cool reply, and as he spoke,
Artie raised his hands. But he also walked to the window,--to find it
locked, and another negro standing guard outside.

"There is where you show your sense, Captain. Joe, advance and receive
the captain's sabre and his pistol."

"You spoke about what was done with the guerillas at Greeger Lake. Are
you going to rob me of my weapons?"

"No, you shall have them back,--when the proper time comes. If I let you
keep them, you might attempt to commit suicide when left alone."

"Which means that you are going to make a prisoner of me?"

"Which means exactly that, Captain. I trust you enjoy the prospect."

"I think it is a foolish movement on your part. Do you not know that
this country is overrun with Union troops, some of which are bound to
come to this place sooner or later?"

"Let them come; we do not care," burst out Mrs. Bradner. "My poor
brother's loss shall be avenged!" she added tragically.

"Did your brother belong to those guerillas?" questioned Artie, a light
breaking in on his mind.

"He was at the head of the command which participated in the unfortunate
engagement at Greeger Lake," responded the woman, tartly. "He would have
won had he not been outnumbered, four to one."

"Was your brother Major Gossley?" continued Artie.

"He was and is. His command is now with General Bragg--and will soon
help to wipe out this horde of villanous mudsills, who have entered our
State," resumed the lady of the house, grandiloquently. "Do you remember
my brother in person?"

"I remember him very well. There was a miller at Greeger Lake named
Price. He had hidden away his money, and your brother made him give it
up by threatening to hang him. The man was dragged to a tree and a rope
placed about his neck. When the Riverlawns captured the command, your
brother was compelled to give Price back his money."

At these plain words, the lady of the house grew furious. "It is a
falsehood--a base, malicious, Yankee falsehood!" she screamed. "Dick,
why don't you bind him and give him--a--a--the lash?"

"I'll bind him fast enough," answered the colonel. "After that, we'll
see what is best to be done. Joe, is there a rope handy?"

"Yes, Mars'r," answered the foremost of the negroes.

"Take it and bind the prisoner's hands behind him. Sam, keep him well
covered, and I will do the same. Between two fires, he will keep quiet
enough, I'll warrant."

Without delay, the negro Joe procured the rope and walked up behind
Artie. Resistance just then would have been foolish, and Artie's weapons
were soon taken from him, after which he was made a close prisoner. The
rope had scarcely been adjusted, when there came a loud knocking on the
front door of the house.




CHAPTER XV

GOSSLEY THE GUERILLA


"Who can that be?" asked the lady of the mansion, nervously, as the
knock was repeated.

"I will go and see," answered Colonel Bradner. He turned to the two
negroes. "See that he doesn't get away from you."

"He shan't git de chance, Mars'r," answered Joe, who had picked up his
gun again.

Arising from his couch, where he had retained his seat while covering
the young captain, the crippled advocate of the Southern cause stumped
to the door, walked out of the room, and closed the barrier behind him.
His wife accompanied him.

Artie strained his ears to catch what might be said. A hope had entered
his mind that the newcomer might be Life Knox, who had grown impatient
of waiting at the forks of the road and come in this direction to find
him. He felt certain that if it was the tall Kentuckian, there would
presently be exceedingly "warm" times about the place.

But he was doomed to disappointment. The voice was that of a man, loud,
rough, and savage, and the front door was closed with a bang. Then a
long talk followed in the hallway, and the newcomer pushed his way into
the sitting room.

"So we meet again," was the salutation Artie received, with a dark frown
from a pair of wolf-like eyes. "Reckon you didn't expect to see me quite
so soon, and under such circumstances."

"You are right,--I never expected to see you again, Major Gossley,"
replied Artie, for the newcomer was the noted leader of the guerillas
encountered at Greeger Lake.

"How does it make you feel?"

"I haven't had time enough to consider that side of the question," Artie
returned, trying to keep as calm as possible, although he realized that
the coming of the guerilla leader was a bad thing for him.

"Reckon you will realize it before I have done with you," muttered
Gossley. "Martha, has he been telling you anything about me?" he added,
turning to his sister.

[Illustration: "SO WE MEET AGAIN," WAS THE SALUTATION ARTIE RECEIVED.

_Page 190._]

"A string of falsehoods, Dan,--a string of falsehoods! Said you actually
robbed a miller,--was going to hang him because he wouldn't give up his
money," ejaculated Mrs. Bradner, excitedly. "I wanted Dick to give him
the lash; the base Yankee deserves it."

"He deserves a rope--as they all do," said Gossley. "It was a fine thing
to steal our hosses and sell 'em, wasn't it?"

"Your horses were not stolen, as I told that lady."

"They were--and my money was taken, too. The Riverlawns are a pack of
thieves,--worse than any band of raiders that ever came out of
Tennessee," stormed the irate leader of the ill-fated expedition to
Greeger Lake.

"How much money did you have?" questioned Artie, calmly, hoping to draw
the guerilla out.

"I had nearly two thousand dollars, all told."

"In Confederate money?"

"Partly; and partly in United States scrip and gold."

"Where did you get so much money?"

The major of the guerillas scowled. As readers of the volume before this
know, Gossley had obtained the money by selling a large quantity of
grain, pork, hams, and bacon taken in the guerilla raids. The chief had
kept the money on his person, expecting to divide with his men later.
About the time the horses of the raiders were driven off, the money
disappeared, stolen by some of the guerillas, but Gossley was firmly
convinced that the base Yankees had relieved him of the amount.

"It's none of your business where I got the money," stormed the man. "I
had it, and that's enough. Your regiment stole it,--and I'm going to get
square."

"That's right, Dan; don't give him an inch," broke in Mrs. Bradner.

"I never saw your money or heard of it," added Artie, quietly.

"Of course he wouldn't acknowledge it," said Colonel Bradner, who had
sunk down on the couch again.

"I've a good mind to put a bullet through you where you stand," went on
the guerilla leader. "But I won't do it; I'll try another game. If I am
not mistaken, you are Captain Lyon."