The command was obeyed, and meanwhile Deck sent back word to Major
Truman to bring up the regiment and scatter it in a huge circle around
the vicinity. "Unless they have slipped on ahead, we are bound to get
them," he said to Tom Belthorpe.

Captain Ripley had gone with six men to the upper end of the brush,
Belthorpe remained with six others where the first stand had been taken,
while Deck, with the remaining cavalrymen present, made a detour, coming
up on the opposite side of the growth, and at a distance of three
hundred yards. He was on a slight hill, and could look directly down
upon the spot the Confederates, with the extra horses, had occupied. As
Captain Ripley had said, the enemy was nowhere in sight.

The men looked at Deck, and it must be confessed the major felt
uncomfortable, for he had been certain that something would turn up when
a better view of the ground back of the brush was obtained.

"We will advance,--but do so cautiously," said the major, and drew his
pistol. Hardly two hundred feet had been covered when he made a
discovery. The brush overhung a small, rocky brook, probably three feet
deep in the centre. But where the water came from and where it went to
was another question. Certainly, in making the detour, he and his men
had crossed no such watercourse.

"It must come either from a powerful spring or from underground," he
reasoned. "Forward!" he shouted. "That running stream must solve the
mystery."

The brook was soon gained, and found to flow to the southwestward. A
detail was sent up the stream, and soon came back reporting that there
were several small springs there, but the larger portion of the water
came from a flow out of the side of a small hill.

Major Truman now reported that the Riverlawns had surrounded the entire
territory, and feeling certain he had the enemy secure, Deck continued
his investigation. Several cavalrymen were sent down the centre of the
brook, while he kept abreast of them beyond the brush.

Almost the end of the wood was gained, when the cavalrymen shouted out
that they had reached a small waterfall, and could go no further.
Pressing over the rocky ground, Deck gained the waterfall, to find at
its bottom a well-hole in the almost solid rock, some fifty or sixty
feet in diameter. At the bottom was a pool, partly covered with dead
brush and decayed tree trunks, and the water ran off in a large opening
to one side of the well-hole.

"Here are horses' hoof-prints, Major," said one of the men. "I shouldn't
wonder if there is a winding path leading down to that 'air pool. But if
the rebs went down there, what became of 'em?"

"There may be a cave there," answered Deck. "These underground
watercourses often flow through caves around where I live, not far from
the Mammoth Cave."

"To be sure, Major. Shall we go down?"

"Yes, but be on your guard."

The winding path was soon traced out, and not caring to risk the limbs
of their animals, the cavalrymen went down on foot. In high curiosity,
Deck followed, to find himself in a cold and gloomy place continually
filled with fine spray from the waterfall. True enough, there was a cave
some ten feet high by twenty feet wide beyond the falling waters,
through the bottom of which flowed the brook as peacefully as it flowed
above in the sunshine. Looking ahead, they saw the outlet of the cave,
several hundred yards distant.

"They have outwitted us!" cried Deck, after a moment's examination.
"They came down here and rode right through the cave. Evidently they
were commanded by somebody who knows this locality well. They have a
fine start of us, but if we don't let them know what we have discovered
we may yet take them unawares."

As no one had his horse, all present had to climb back to the top of the
well-hole. As soon as this was done, Major Lyon despatched several
messengers to notify his officers of the truth of the situation, and
then set off at full speed in the direction the retreating enemy had
taken. He was soon joined by Captain Abbey with the first battalion, and
the four companies were urged forward at the best speed the condition of
the road allowed.

The Confederates had made good use of the time gained by the trick they
had played, but they could not go on forever, and by nightfall their
horses were so wearied they refused to get off a walk, and then their
commander, a plucky young man from Montgomery, who was by profession a
surveyor, and well acquainted with the territory, led his men and the
extra horses directly into a bit of swamp ground, surrounded by a
thicket of cypresses. There were but two paths into the swamp, and he
felt tolerably safe from pursuit.

The trick that had been played upon him put Deck upon his mettle, and he
determined, come what might, that the Riverlawns should capture those
particular Confederates ere the journey to Huntsville was resumed. As an
entrance to the swamp would have proved dangerous in the darkness, he
encamped for the night on the outside, but sent out a strong picket
guard to surround the district.

The Confederates endeavored to escape at four in the morning, knowing
that daylight would prove fatal to such an undertaking. They came out of
the swamp on both roads, and an alarm from the two spots rang out almost
simultaneously. But Major Lyon had prepared for this, and at the first
alarm the first battalion galloped to one road, the second battalion to
the other, while Major Truman's command kept on the grand circle. Thus
it was fight or go back and be hunted down, and the plucky Confederate
captain chose to fight. Those on the second road ran or rode to the
first, and the entire command charged the first company of Deck's
battalion.

[Illustration: HIS FOOT CAUGHT THE MAN IN THE FACE.

_Page 249._]

Maddened by what seemed a hopeless charge, the Confederates fought
desperately, but they could do nothing against such superior numbers,
and almost the first man to go down was the captain, shot through the
heart. Deck was within a hundred feet of the fellow, and hardly had
their leader fallen than two Confederates rushed upon the young major,
each with a bayonet affixed to his gun.

"We'll run you through, Yank!" cried one, and made a furious onslaught
with his bayonet. The other did the same, and although Deck was not
touched, Ceph received a severe prick in the right flank. The next
instant Deck fired, and one soldier went down, shot through the ankle.

The second soldier was directly in front of Ceph, and maddened by pain,
the horse reared up on his hind legs, made a leap, and came down heavily
on the Confederate. His right front foot caught the man in the face, and
he went down with a broken nose, a disfigured forehead, and totally
senseless. Then Ceph took another leap, and in a twinkling the whole
scene was a thing of the past.

The second battalion had followed the flying enemy through the swamp,
Major Belthorpe being satisfied his horses could go wherever the
Confederates found a footing. As the enemy was now brought to a
standstill, he was caught between two fires, and there was nothing left
for him to do but to surrender. The captain being killed, the second in
command, a tough-looking specimen of the "swamp angel," threw up his
hands, in one of which fluttered a dirty white handkerchief.

"Do you surrender?" demanded Major Lyon, who saw the movement.

"Yes," was the surly response.

"Very well; advance one by one, and throw down your arms in a heap.
Captain Abbey, have your company cover them well."

"Say, but you're a young rooster to be givin' orders around hyer," went
on the "angel."

"You will keep silent and do as ordered," said Deck, briefly; and then
no more was said.

One by one the Confederates advanced and deposited their arms as
commanded. This being concluded, Captain Abbey was ordered to form the
enemy into columns of fours and march them to the highway beyond the
swamp. The second company took charge of the horses, of which there
proved to be forty-seven all told. Four were found to be in a pitiable
condition, and these the major ordered shot, to put them out of their
misery.

"Well, Major, we have made a fine capture truly," remarked Captain
Blenks, of the second company, after reporting that at least thirty of
the horses were thoroughbreds. "Those animals alone are worth twelve or
fifteen thousand dollars."

"Where are the three prisoners the Confederates were holding?"

"I haven't heard of them."

Without delay Deck summoned the leader of the captured crowd before him.

"I want to know something about the three prisoners you had with you,"
he said.

"They got away from us last night."

"You are telling me the truth?"

"Yes, Major. We had a traitor among us--a lad from Kentucky named
Feswell. He untied 'em, and the hull four skipped in the darkness."

Unwilling to believe the fellow, who looked the rascal in his face, Deck
waited until daylight, and then sent a detail to search the swamp from
end to end. The men were under the command of Sandy Lyon, and in less
than an hour they returned with the three prisoners, who had been tied
to trees and gagged. One of the poor fellows, the captain of an Illinois
company, was in distress from a bullet-wound in his arm, and all three
were suffering from hunger and thirst.

Deck's indignation over this discovery was great, and he at once visited
the batch of prisoners and read them a lecture on their brutality. "War
is one thing, and uncalled-for heartlessness is another," he said. "Had
these three men been left to die in the swamp, every one of you who knew
of their plight would have been guilty of murder. I had intended to send
you into the Union lines as you are; now each of you shall ride the
distance with his arms strapped behind him, and your rations shall be
hardtack and water,--nothing more."

At this there was an outburst of indignation. But Deck was obdurate, and
the Confederates were forced to submit. Men and horses were placed in
the charge of the third battalion, and by noontime Major Truman was on
his way northward with them, the three Union men accompanying the
command, and assisting in watching the prisoners.

By nightfall the first and second battalions had reached a small hamlet
known as Conners, and they encamped on the outskirts, occupying a
deserted farmhouse, and a half-dozen barns close by. Sentinels had been
carefully posted, and Deck and the others got a good sleep after the
night of wakefulness at the swamp.

It still wanted two hours of daylight when a message was brought to Deck
that the Riverlawns were wanted at a spot two miles south of where they
were encamped. It was reported that a portion of Minty's cavalry had
encountered a body of Forrest's command, to which was attached a number
of Tennessee guerillas. Help was wanted at once, or the Union troops
would be annihilated.

The message perplexed Deck not a little, as he had no idea that Minty
was in the vicinity. Yet, if help was needed, he was not the one to hold
back, and in less than half an hour the Riverlawns were on the way,
eating their ham and hardtack as they galloped forward. The messenger,
an elderly man who wore the shoulder straps of a lieutenant of cavalry,
stated that he knew every foot of ground in that part of Alabama, and
was, therefore, allowed to take the lead without question.

For half a mile the course was along a well-defined trail leading out of
the swamp lands to a rocky and sandy elevation covered with a stunted
growth of trees. Then they came to a narrow defile where but two
cavalrymen could ride abreast. Here a guard was thrown out; but no enemy
developed, and the defile was left behind and they emerged upon an open
plain ending in a slight depression. From here a woods could be seen,
almost three-quarters of a mile distant.

Deck had been riding at the head of the column, but at the defile he had
turned back, to make certain that every company came through in safety.
Now he moved forward once more, just as Captain Abbey made the
discovery that the trail was becoming dangerous through quicksands.

"We have gone wrong, Major, I believe," said the captain. "Where is that
guide?"

"Why, I left him with you!" exclaimed Deck, in astonishment.

"I know you did; but he rode back to interview you and see if it
wouldn't be advisable to branch off on two roads which he stated were
just beyond here."

"I have seen nothing of him," said Deck, and instantly became
suspicious. Several messengers were sent out, to the front and the rear,
and it speedily became known that the guide had disappeared. Hardly had
this word come in than the rear guard announced the presence of a body
of Confederate cavalry on the hills on both sides of the defile just
passed. Deck had but listened to the report when there came another from
the front. The plain was impassable, being nothing more than an immense
bed of quicksand. The Riverlawns were caught in a trap.




CHAPTER XX

MAJOR LYON WINS A BATTLE AND LOSES HIS HORSE


Major Dexter Lyon realized that he had been played false by the
so-styled guide, and that his two battalions were in a dangerous
situation. The eight companies of horsemen were in the centre of a small
plain. In a semicircle in front was a low and treacherous quicksand,
impossible of passage; in a semicircle to the rear was a rocky
elevation, divided in half by the defile through which the cavalry had
just passed. On the rocky elevation, on both sides of the defile,
Confederate cavalry had been discovered, ready to pour in a hot fire on
them the moment they attempted to turn back on their trail.

"Major, it looks as if our goose was cooked," remarked Tom Belthorpe,
after the reports from the front and the rear had been considered. "They
couldn't have laid a neater trap for us."

"And I allowed myself to walk into it blindfolded," answered Deck,
somewhat bitterly.

"The rebels kept mighty shady when we came through the defile," put in
Captain Abbey, who was also at hand. "I wonder why they didn't open on
us then and there?"

"That is an easy question to answer, Captain," said Deck. "If they had
opened up, our command could have retreated; now they have every one of
us just about where they want us."

"But you won't surrender without a fight, will you?" demanded Kate
Belthorpe's brother, anxiously.

"I have never yet done any surrendering, Tom. I want to know just how
bad--What is it, Captain?"

"A flag of truce," answered Captain Life Knox, as he dashed up. "A
private is carrying it, and there is a Confederate captain of cavalry
with him."

"Indeed! They evidently want to rush things. Come with me, and we'll see
what they want."

Side by side Deck and Life rode off, the way being to the lower edge of
the rocky elevation. Here the Confederates had come to a halt in the
midst of some underbrush.

"I am Captain Adairs, Mississippi Volunteer Cavalry," said the
Confederate officer, with a salute, which the others promptly returned.
"Who is in command of those Union troops?"

"I am in command," answered Deck.

"Major Dexter Lyon," put in Life, introducing him.

"Well, Major Lyon, I reckon you know we have you in a pretty tight box,"
went on the Confederate captain, with a smile.

"Is that so?" returned Deck, as though the thought was brand-new to him.

"We have. Ahead is nothing but swamp and quicksand, and back here my
command hold the defile and the entire elevation."

"You must have your company pretty well spread out," remarked Deck.

"I have more than one company with me--fully enough men to hold the
spot. So you see you are entirely cut off."

"Cut off from where?"

"The outside world, so to speak," was the Confederate's impatient
answer.

"If we are, that's rather bad for us, Captain," and now Deck began to
smile.

"It is. The question is, are you willing to surrender?" demanded Captain
Adairs.

"To whom?"

"Why, to me, of course."

"Great Cæsar, Captain, what for?"

"What for? Because you can't help yourself, that's what for!" and now
the veneering of gentlemanliness vanished. "I call on you to surrender.
If you won't, I'll open fire on you in less than five minutes."

"Make it ten minutes, Captain," and Deck kept on smiling.

"Ten minutes?" And the smile and the request perplexed the Confederate
not a little, as it also perplexed Life Knox. The latter could not
imagine what the major was driving at, for while he was a good soldier,
and a first-class shot, diplomacy, military or otherwise, was beyond
him.

"Exactly, ten minutes--or possibly quarter of an hour."

"I shall not wait longer than five minutes."

"Then I'll try to make five minutes do, although it will hardly be time
enough."

"Time enough for what?"

"Time enough for me to arrange my plans for giving you battle," answered
Deck, as calmly as ever.

"See here, do you take me for a--a fool?" cried the Confederate captain.
"What are you driving at? I won't waste any more words with you."

"Won't you?" Deck had his field-glasses in his hand, and now he pointed
them to the northward of the rocky elevation. "They are coming, Life!"
he cried. "We are all right! Come on back!" And he waved his hand to his
companion. "Good day, Captain, and I don't think I'll surrender--now!"

"Fooled!" burst from the Confederate's lips. "They are being reГ«nforced!
Why did I waste words here!" And without another look at Deck, he turned
and galloped off with his orderly; and soon the two pairs were several
hundred yards apart.

"It was well done--you scared him nicely!" burst out Life. "But what's
the next move on the checkerboard, Deck?"

"The next move is to gain yonder grove of trees as quickly as we can.
Carry the word to Major Belthorpe, and tell him to send Captain Ripley's
sharpshooters and your own in advance. The first and second companies
can come over here."

Away went Life Knox with the swiftness of the wind, realizing that
success depended upon speed, for it would take but a few minutes for the
Confederates to learn the truth concerning the ruse Deck had employed
against them.

As soon as the tall Kentuckian had gone, Deck advanced toward the trees
mentioned, rapidly but cautiously, for he had no desire to be picked off
by some concealed Confederate marksman. His course lay over a series of
rough rocks, but Ceph sprang from one to another with the lightness of a
mountain goat. Soon the shelter of the first row of trees was gained.

Deck was not particularly a woodsman, but as a boy he had climbed many a
maple-tree in New Hampshire, and later on, many a walnut in Kentucky. He
had not forgotten the art, and standing up on Ceph's back he leaped into
the branches of the tree above him, and climbed to the top in what Artie
would have called "jig time."

The tree was tall, and standing on an elevation, afforded a good view of
the surrounding territory for a mile or more on every side. Taking up
his glasses again he inspected the situation with care.

Captain Adairs had told the truth about having more companies than one.
There were three commands all told, each numbering probably seventy to
eighty men. One was on this side of the defile, and two were on the
opposite side. The men were scattered at convenient points for holding
the defile against almost any force.

While Deck was surveying the situation, the Confederate captain reached
his men, and orders were at once issued which took away half of the men
at the rocky pass, and sent them in the direction of the main road
beyond. This left but half a company in the neighborhood Deck was
reconnoitring.

"If we can't whip half a company, no matter what advantage they have
behind the rocks, we are not fit for the Union army," thought the major,
and began to descend the tree.

He had just stepped on the limb below him, when he heard a crashing
through the brush between the rocks. Wondering if it was friend or foe,
he paused, and tried to look down. But the thick leaves and heavy
branches cut off the view below completely.

"Git up thar, git up!" he heard, in a rough, heavy voice, as somebody
leaped upon Ceph's back. Then came a clatter of horse's hoofs, and he
heard his faithful steed move off--a prisoner of the enemy!

To Deck, Ceph was among his dearest possessions, and regardless of his
danger, he scrambled down the tree with all possible speed, at the same
time calling upon the unknown horse-thief to stop. But neither man nor
beast halted, and by the time the major was down both were well out of
sight.

Bitter as he felt over his loss, now was no time for Deck to grieve, and
he scrambled over the rough ground until he came in sight of the first
and second company, advancing as directed. At the same moment a
scattering volley of shots from the other grove of trees told that the
sharpshooters under Ripley and Life Knox had got to work.

"Lieutenant Fronklyn!" cried the major. "Go to Major Belthorpe at once,
and tell him to bring all of the companies he has excepting Captain
Ripley's men around here without delay. Captain Ripley is to work into
the woods, but steer for the defile."

"Orders understood," replied Lieutenant Fronklyn, and galloped off.

Lieutenant Fronklyn was known to be a good rider, and he was soon out of
sight. Without waiting for the balance of his command, minus the
sharpshooters under Ripley, to come up, Deck urged the first and second
companies forward.

The sudden attack, added to the report that another force of the enemy
was on the highway, threw the Confederates in confusion, and although
they stood their ground, it could be seen that they felt more like
breaking away. Several volleys were exchanged, and half a dozen men on
both sides were hit, but nobody seriously.

In the meantime Captain Ripley and Captain Knox had worked into the
woods rapidly, and it was found impossible by Major Belthorpe to bring
Life back, although an orderly was sent to deliver Deck's order to the
Kentuckian. The balance of the companies followed the first half of the
first battalion without delay.

Realizing that the Union cavalry was massing on the north side of the
defile, the Confederate commander endeavored to bring up the balance of
the two companies from the opposite side. But the descent from the rocks
on one side and the ascent on the other took time, and just now every
moment was precious.

Deck did not "let the grass grow under his feet." The first battalion
went ahead on the double-quick, and soon a fierce hand-to-hand encounter
was under way among the rocks. A dozen cavalrymen were wounded, and the
Confederates fell back to a point midway between the defile and the
highway.

Those Confederates who had gone down into the cut were now trying to
gain the heights where the fighting was going on. But Deck was ready for
them, and sent Major Belthorpe to the edge of the defile with two
companies of the second battalion and Artie Lyon's company of the first.
They fired directly down upon the heads of the Confederates, and in less
than five minutes had the enemy retreating in the wildest confusion.

Deck had swung his three companies around, so that they had their backs
to the defile. He could hear the sharpshooters pushing the enemy through
the woods toward him. Presently the Confederates appeared, and the whole
company which had occupied this ground originally was surrounded. Ten
men were killed and an equal number wounded, and then the officer in
command, a lieutenant, held up his sword, hilt first, to which was tied
a white handkerchief; and the battle in that vicinity came to an end.

As soon as the company, or what was left of it, surrendered, Deck sent a
battalion and a half after those who were fleeing. But the Confederates
were filled with terror, thinking the reГ«nforcements had surely come,
with sharpshooters in advance, and they continued to retreat at the full
speed of their horses. They were pursued for half a mile, and then the
chase was given up.

An examination proved that the Riverlawns had lost eight men in killed
and wounded, and the Confederates had lost nearly twice that number.
Fifteen of the enemy had been captured, including an officer who said he
had once practised as a surgeon. To his care were consigned all the
wounded Confederates, who were, later on, carried to a farmhouse a
quarter of a mile away. The wounded of the Riverlawns were turned over
to Doctor Farnwright, the regular surgeon of the regiment, and the dead
were buried with proper ceremonies at the spot where they had fallen.

"You did the trick, Major!" cried Tom Belthorpe, after it was all over.
"It was one of the neatest moves I ever saw!"

"It saved our goose from being cooked," laughed Deck. He felt that he
could afford to be light-hearted now.

"That's so,--I was too hasty in what I said," answered Kate Belthorpe's
brother. "But what horse is that you are riding?"

"One taken from the enemy, Tom."

"And where is Ceph?"

"Gone."

"Dead?"

"No, somebody stole him while I was up in a tree looking over the
situation."

"That's too bad. I know you set a store by that horse."

"I wouldn't lose him for a thousand dollars,--no, not for five times
that amount," replied the young major, earnestly.

And Deck meant what he said. To him the loss of faithful Ceph meant more
than any of his comrades in arms could understand. He wondered if he
should ever set eyes on the noble animal again.




CHAPTER XXI

CROSSING THE TENNESSEE RIVER


Twenty-four hours after the affair described in the last chapter, the
Riverlawns rode into Huntsville, bringing with them their last prisoners
and their horses. They found that the larger portion of the Union
cavalry had already arrived, and prisoners, horses, and negroes ready to
flee to the North, were numerous.

"You have done remarkably well, Major Lyon," said the general in
command, on receiving Deck's report. "I doubt if any of our forces have
done better," and with this compliment the youthful commander was
dismissed.

The stop in Huntsville did not last long, some of the cavalry leaving on
the same night that the Riverlawns came in. By a pre-arranged plan the
Union forces spread out into a large semicircle when on their way
northward, and they came home with about three hundred prisoners,
sixteen hundred horses and mules, and a thousand head of cattle, sheep,
and pigs. On the return, the Riverlawns encountered but one body of the
enemy, less than fifteen in number, and these fled at the first sight of
the Unionists. About six hundred negroes joined the army on its
northward movement, and thus escaped to the free States, much to their
own satisfaction.

General Bragg, accompanied by Wheeler's cavalry force, had escaped to
Chattanooga, and it was thought by some that General Rosecrans ought to
pursue the enemy without delay. But there were great difficulties in the
way. The enemy had torn up the railroads, the Army of the Cumberland,
despite such raids as the one just mentioned, was short of rations and
forage, and the commanding general felt that he must have support for
his flanks ere braving the river and the mountain gaps, which he felt
the Confederates would hold as long as possible.

To thoroughly understand the situation, the reader must remember that
between the Union army and Chattanooga lay the lofty Cumberland
Mountains, washed on either side by the waters of the Elk and the
Tennessee rivers. To the northward the mountains were rugged and but
poorly wooded; to the southward they were partly broken up by the
Sequatchie River, flowing through the valley of that name, nearly fifty
miles long, a valley much broken in spots.

Behind this great barrier Bragg felt, for a time at least, safe, and he
utilized each hour in adding to his troops, men being forced into the
Southern army wherever and whenever they could be found. The soldiers
were poorly clothed and scantily fed, and some of the cavalry were
mounted on mules. The firearms were of various sorts, English and
Belgian weapons being quite common.

It was not until the 16th of August that the Army of the Cumberland
began that momentous advance which will ever be remembered in the annals
of history. In the meantime, railroads had been repaired, the artillery
had been equipped with extra heavy harness for the horses, boats on the
rivers had been put in good condition, and, equally important, the corn
had ripened in sunny spots and been gathered in by the army
quartermasters. The loss of their crop of corn caused many a
heartburning among the farmers of this section of our country, but the
confiscation was one of actual necessity; and, wherever such a course
seemed just, payments were made for what was taken.

Twice had Rosecrans defeated the enemy by turning his flank. Now, with
the mountains between himself and Bragg's front, there seemed nothing to
do but to try the trick again. But the movement must be well planned and
well executed, or the enemy would immediately become aware of what was
going on, and make a move that would upset all the Union commander's
calculations.

As has been said, the mountains to the northward were high and rugged;
to the southward, they were broken up by a long valley, a river, and
several small creeks. To turn the enemy's right would, therefore,
require a long and arduous journey through a country almost barren.
Rosecrans resolved to make his real movement to the left; that is, to
the southward of Chattanooga. And the first act in the great drama was
to hoodwink Bragg into believing that he was coming around by the
mountain paths to the north.

Carrying with them ammunition enough for two great battles, and rations
for twenty-five days, the forward movement began by throwing
Crittenden's corps over the Cumberland Mountains and Walden's Ridge into
the Tennessee Valley, directly opposite and to the north of Chattanooga.
The corps moved from Hillsboro, Manchester, and McMinnville, and when in
the Tennessee Valley were joined by Wilder's brigade of mounted
infantry,--a portion of the fourteenth corps. To these bodies were added
Minty's cavalry, which, riding on the left, through Sparta and
Pikeville, operated along the river for twenty-eight miles above
Blythe's Ferry.

The boys in blue were bound to deceive the enemy if the thing could be
done, and at night immense camp-fires were lighted for miles along the
river front, always in front and to the north of Chattanooga.
Foot-soldiers and cavalry showed themselves first at one place and then
another, and at night bugle-calls sounded out in spots where no cavalry
had yet been or was likely to be. On the river bank, trees were cut down
and sawed up, the ends being left to float down the stream, to give the
enemy the impression that extensive bridge-building was on the way. One
detachment climbed up a nearby ridge, and with its battery threw shells
toward the city,--something that made the inhabitants imagine that the
final contest was now at hand.

And while all this was going on, the main portion of the Union forces
had crossed the Cumberland Mountains thirty odd miles below, and were
gathering on the bank of the Tennessee River. A train had come in,
bringing on it a pontoon-bridge which was to be thrown across the stream
at Caperton. The train was stopped in the woods, and the boats and
planking were hurried forward in secret.

While the sun was still rising on the 29th of August, fifty boats, with
a capacity of twenty-five hundred men, were taken across the open fields
of Caperton, launched, and rowed to the south shore of the Tennessee.
The picket guard of the enemy was driven away, and soon the
pontoon-bridge was in position. Immediately upon the completion of the
work, Davis's division crossed and went into camp at the base of Raccoon
Mountain. In three days his division, with Johnston's, had marched
across the range, and forty-eight hours later these troops established
themselves at Winston's Pass over Lookout Mountain, within forty-two
miles of Bragg's stronghold. The same day Stanley's cavalry, under
General Mitchell, crossed Lookout, and on the week following descended
into Broomtown Valley.

The march of the army was now well under way, and Thomas's corps and the
other troops came along at various points, covering the ground as
rapidly as the nature of the territory permitted. It was felt that
General Bragg must know by this time what was going on, and strict watch
was kept all along the line to prevent a surprise.

The laying of the pontoon-bridge was to Major Deck Lyon and his brother,
Captain Artie, a good deal of a novelty, and the Riverlawns assisted in
carrying more than one boat down to the rushing waters of the Tennessee.
Once the boats were strung from shore to shore, it was no easy matter to
link them together, or to get the planking down even after they were
linked, but all hands worked bravely, despite the occasional shots from
the Confederate pickets fleeing from the neighborhood.

The Riverlawns crossed the bridge in safety, all but two men, a private
of the sixth company, who quickly swam his horse ashore, and Sandy Lyon.
Sandy had a spirited horse, and was advised to lead him over; but the
lieutenant insisted on riding, and when the middle of the bridge was
reached, his horse shied, and Sandy slid overboard like a flash. He went
down, to come up at a point fifty feet down the turbulent stream.

"Help! help!" he yelled, as soon as he could eject the water from his
mouth. "Some of you fellows haul me out!"

"Can't you swim?" asked several, unwilling to endure a wetting if it was
not necessary.

"I can't swim much--ain't swum in five years," came in a gasp, "and this
clothing weighs a ton!"

Artie Lyon had seen Sandy go overboard, and now he drew his uncle's
attention to the scene. Titus was very much excited on the instant.
"Save Sandy--save my boy!" he cried, and he tried to leap overboard, but
Artie hauled him back.

"You can't swim, can you?" asked the captain.

"No--but--I don't want Sandy to drown!" panted Titus Lyon. "I've lost
one son already in this war!"

"There is a boat--I'll get that and go after Sandy," answered Artie.
"You stay here;" and he motioned for two cavalrymen standing near to
hold Titus and thus prevent him from throwing himself into the rushing
element.

The boat was a flat-bottomed affair, owned by an old fisherman of
Caperton. The oars were handy, and Artie was soon on a seat in the
craft. As he pushed off Life Knox leaped in beside him.

"Reckon two rowers are better nor one," said the tall Kentuckian, and
without a word Artie tossed him an oar. Soon the boat was making good
headway down the stream in the direction in which Sandy's head could be
seen bobbing up and down.

"Help me!" he cried again. "I'm played out!"

"Keep up a little longer,--we are coming," replied Artie, encouragingly.

"I can't keep up--something is fast to my foo--" And the words ended in
a gurgle, as Sandy suddenly disappeared.

"Why, what can this mean?" asked the young captain. "Has he caught his
spurs into each other?"

"More than likely he got tangled up in one of those boat chains,"
remarked Life Knox. "I noticed the chains hanging around when the bridge
was put down."

"Then they'll take him to the bottom, sure," said Artie, and grew more
anxious than ever for his cousin's safety.

The disappearance of Sandy had been noticed from the bridge and from
both shores, and now several small boats put out. Titus Lyon broke away
from those who held him and went overboard with a loud splash, and two
minutes later a boat picked him up, more dead than alive.

When Artie and Life reached the spot where Sandy had disappeared,
nothing was to be seen of the young lieutenant, and a blank look seized
upon the faces of the would-be rescuers. Suddenly, however, the tall
Kentuckian gave a leap to the stern.

"There he is!" he shouted.

"Where?"

"Under water several feet. He is going down!"

As Life spoke he threw off his coat and hat, his boots followed,--in a
moment he slipped overboard.

The boat had now swung around with the current, and Artie had his hands
full bringing her up to the proper position and holding her there.
Artie's heart was in his throat. Poor Orly Lyon had been shot down in
battle, and now, if Sandy was also lost, what would his Uncle Titus and
his kind-hearted Aunt Susan do?

"Oh, I do hope Life brings him up!" he thought, when the head of the
Kentuckian appeared, dripping with water. Life supported Sandy in his
arms, and Artie brought the flatboat up close. In a moment Sandy was
laid on the seat and the captain of the seventh company clambered in.

The eyes of the lieutenant were closed, and Artie could not tell whether
he was dead or otherwise. "Is it--it all right?" he faltered.

"I hope so, Artie. He had his ankle caught in a chain just as I
supposed. It was hard work releasing him, I can tell you. Let us get to
shore just as fast as we can."

Artie needed no urging to do this, and soon the flatboat grounded on
the south bank of the river, and willing hands carried Sandy to a grassy
bank where he was rolled and worked over, until the water came out of
him, and he gave a gasp.

"He's all right now," said Life, drawing a long breath.

"Yes, and I'm mighty glad of it," murmured Artie.

Surgeon Farnwright then took charge of the case, but Sandy scarcely
needed him. By morning the lieutenant was as hearty as ever, although a
bit "shaky" as he expressed it.

"I won't forget you," he said, squeezing Life Knox's hand. "You're a
brick!"

Titus Lyon was even more affected. "I've lost Orly," he said, in a husky
voice, "I couldn't afford to lose Sandy, nohow. We ain't been very much
of friends in the past, Captain Knox, but I hope we will be in the
future--leas'wise, I'll be your friend, through thick and thin."

And the adjutant of the Riverlawns kept his word.




CHAPTER XXII

THE SIGNALS IN THE DARK


The Tennessee River passed, the Riverlawns, with the other cavalry,
preceded the Twentieth Army Corps to Winston's Gap, not far from Valley
Head, at the base of Lookout Mountain, and some thirty-five miles south
of Chattanooga. At the same time the other troops came over Sand and
Raccoon mountains, and through various gaps, until, on the 6th of
September, the army lay along the base of Lookout, from Valley Head,
just mentioned, northward to Wauhatchee, several miles above
Chattanooga.

The passage of Sand Mountain was a trying one, never to be forgotten by
about half of Captain Abbey's company, who were riding in advance of the
regular body of cavalry. The Engineering Corps had had the roads
repaired, but the ascent was steep, and in certain spots the trail was
but wide enough for one horseman to pass at a time. The provisions were
brought along on pack mules, and the artillery had to take a roundabout
route twelve miles longer.

Captain Abbey was at the head of his men, and several hundred feet in
advance of any other body of cavalry, when, without warning, thirty-two
of the Riverlawns were caught on a mountain trail not over six feet
broad, having on one side a wall or cliff nearly a hundred feet high,
and on the other a sheer descent of twice that number of feet into a
hollow filled with jagged rocks.

The accident which brought this condition of affairs about was in
reality as simple as it was serious. The trail wound around the mountain
in the shape of a horseshoe, and the cavalrymen were journeying slowly
along at the bottom of the curve, when some rocks and sand far above
them began to slide down. The rumble was heard in time to allow the
riders to escape the landslide, but immediately the trail before and
behind them was choked up with boulders and sand to the height, or
depth, of fifteen feet or more.

It cannot be denied that the members of the first company who were thus
caught were greatly alarmed. Second Lieutenant Burton was with Captain
Abbey, and he yelled out that the mountain was coming down. For several
minutes a score of cries and yells filled the air, but gradually these
died away, and when the landslide stopped, and the dust had rolled away,
the cavalrymen looked about them to see what damage had been done.

"Nobody hurt," announced Captain Abbey. "That was the most fortunate
landslide I ever saw."

"We'll have to go back," said Lieutenant Burton, who had surveyed the
disaster ahead. "We can't climb over that mass of rocks,--it wouldn't be
safe."

"I'd like to know how we are going back," put in one of the sergeants.
"We are blocked in the rear as well as in front. That stuff came from
the top of yonder ridge, and half of it slid down on this side of the
curve and half on the other. We are hemmed in."

This announcement made all feel very uneasy, and more than one
cavalryman turned slightly pale. If they couldn't advance or retreat
what were they to do?

"Let us make a careful investigation of our condition first," said
Captain Abbey, who was as calm as anybody in the detachment. "If we can
do nothing better, we can clear that rubbish off the trail."

At this Lieutenant Burton shook his head.

"That would be a dangerous undertaking, Captain. When rocks and sand
once begin to slide there is no telling when they will stop."

"But this stuff can only slide into the valley below, Burton."

"This stuff can, that's true; but it may bring down ten times as much on
our heads."

At this Captain Abbey shrugged his shoulders. "Well, we'll investigate
first and lay plans afterward. We can't stay here forever. In a couple
of hours more it will be dark."

A cry now arose from other portions of the trail, front and back, asking
if anybody had been hurt. The answer was reassuring: and then the
captain began looking over the ground, moving cautiously around on foot,
followed by the lieutenant and the sergeant. As the trail was so narrow,
the other cavalrymen remained where they were, continually on the watch
to see if more of the ridge above was liable to break away.

There was no doubt but that the platoon was in a "tight fix," to use
Lieutenant Burton's way of expressing it. The boulders in the pathway
were four and five feet in diameter, and several of them were wedged
together, all covered with sand and a sort of shell-rock. The blockade
in the front was as bad as that in the rear; indeed, there seemed to be
no choice between the two.

"Well, we're treed," remarked the lieutenant.

"I should say we were shelved," answered the captain, with a faint
smile.

"We're in a bad box," added the sergeant. "What's to do?"

"I think we might tackle that blockade in the rear, and thus open the
way to join the rest of the regiment. Then, if Colonel Lyon says so,
we'll clear the blockade ahead." The captain spoke thus of Colonel Lyon,
for that officer once more occupied his position with the Riverlawns,
having just about recovered, but no more.

With extreme caution Captain Abbey advanced to the landslide in the
rear, and managed, with his lieutenant's aid, to reach the ground just
above the blockade. It was shaky and uncertain, and he sank into the
sand up to his ankles.

"If we had a lever of some sort we might pry those rocks over the edge
of the cliff," he observed. "I don't believe much more would come down
outside of sand and small stones, and that we could shovel away. Let us
try to find a pole, or--Hullo, Major!" he added, suddenly, "how did you
get here?"

"Climbed up from the other side of the fallen mass," answered Major Deck
Lyon, for the new arrival was he. "Here's a pretty how-do-you-do, eh?"

"That's right, Major. I was just saying we might pry these rocks off
with a heavy pole, if we had the pole."

"I thought as much, Captain, and have already sent back for the heaviest
wagon pole the train possesses," responded Deck. "It will be here as
soon as the boys can bring it up. The problem will be, can we get enough
strength on one end of the lever to move the weight at the other end?"

"The boys are strong, if only they can get a hold."

"But they may not be able to get a hold,--in which case we'll have to
try some other plan. To be sure, the men might climb back in this
direction, but that won't be saving the horses, or opening the trail
again," concluded Deck.

The problem on foot interested him, and as soon as the heavy wagon pole
put into appearance he had it slid up on the rocks, and one end was
inserted between the largest of the boulders, and that next to it. The
major, captain, and sergeant tugged with might and main, but the upper
stone did not budge, and it looked as if ten men could not do the work.

"I reckon that rock is there to stay," remarked Captain Abbey, as he
wiped the perspiration from his face. "This is nigger's work; and I'm
done."

Deck studied the problem for a moment. "Well, 'as the mountain wouldn't
come to Mahomet, Mahomet went to the mountain,'" he quoted. "As this
rock refuses to budge, I don't know but that it is solid enough to
remain where it is, and we can fix up a trail right over it."

"By Jove! that's so!" cried Captain Abbey. "It's fairly flat on top.
All we need is a slope from the front and the back."

A number of men were now called forward, and under Deck's directions the
upper surface of the landslide was cleared away. Everything in the shape
of a flat stone was placed before and behind the big rock, and the sand
and fine shell-rock was shovelled into the cracks between. Inside of an
hour, a new footway was formed at the spot, rising five feet in the
centre and sloping off fifteen feet in either direction. It was made
easy for the horses, and the animals went over it without hesitation.

In the meantime the other obstruction had been attacked by another body
of workers. Here the heavy pole came into good play, and rock after rock
was sent tumbling into the valley below. The sand was shovelled after
it, and by the time the rear obstruction was taken care of, the other
was likewise a thing of the past.

"You had better join the Engineering Corps, Dexter," remarked Colonel
Lyon, as he came up, having been to the rear in consultation with the
commander of the cavalry forces.

"It was a work of necessity, father," answered the major. "The platoon
of the first company was stuck, and it would never have done to have
abandoned those horses. We haven't a single animal to spare, even though
we did round up those others in Alabama."

"I know we haven't any to spare, Dexter. By the way, how do you like
that black charger you have chosen?"

"Oh, he seems to be all right. But he isn't Ceph,--not by a good deal."

"No, you won't find one horse in a thousand like Ceph, my son. I'm
afraid the loss of that noble animal will handicap you in making those
famous leaps on the heads of Confederate officers, such as you have made
in the past."

"No, this horse would never do such work--I wouldn't dare to try him,"
answered the major. "He is of ordinary intelligence, and of good speed
and endurance; and that is all I can say of him."

"I have just been in consultation with the general commanding," went on
Colonel Lyon, after a pause. "He wishes a special piece of work done,
and says he would like Major Dexter Lyon to do it."

"I am ready, sir. What is the work?"

"As you know, we are to move up to Winston's Gap. The general imagines a
detachment of Wheeler's cavalry is located somewhere at this side of the
Gap, or near Valley Head, strongly intrenched, to take us unaware. You
are to learn the truth of the situation."

"I will do my best."

"It was agreed between us that you should take a detachment of six men
with you, and one of the number was to be Captain Knox."

"That just suits me."

"The other men are to be sharpshooters from Captain's Knox's company."

"That will also be satisfactory."

"Before you go you are to come to the general for instructions. He is
just below here, at the Knob, as it is called. You must remember passing
the spot."

"Yes, I remember," answered Deck.

It was supper time, but the major did not wait for the meal. Calling a
negro orderly aside, he procured a bite and a strong cup of coffee, and
having swallowed both, set off on a gallop.

The conference with General Mitchell occupied the best part of quarter
of an hour. Deck was instructed to take the road leading to the
headwaters of Town Creek, to the northwest of Valley Head. He was to
pass over the creek or around it, and note with care all of the
approaches to Lookout Mountain in that vicinity. The mission might prove
dangerous, and the sharpshooters were to do their best to avoid a
capture by the enemy, should the Confederates develop in force and
surprise them.

With these instructions well understood, Deck returned to the Riverlawns
and summoned Life. The selection of the five sharpshooters was left to
the tall Kentuckian, and it is needless to state that the captain picked
out the most able fellows his company afforded. The horses had already
been watered and groomed, and the men had had supper; so after Deck's
own steed was cared for, they set off, the major and the captain side by
side, and the sharpshooters by column of twos in the rear.

At about eight o'clock the mountain was passed, and the seven cavalrymen
found themselves in a small valley, with rocks upon one side, and a
woods backed up by a small creek on the other. The trail lay along the
bank of the creek, and was easy to follow, even in the gathering
darkness.

"How long do you propose to travel--all night?" asked Life, presently.

"That will depend upon circumstances," answered Deck. "We may as well
push along while the trail is as clear as it is here."

"But we can't locate any enemy in the dark."

"I doubt very much if any Confederates are so close to us. I was
thinking, however, we might spot a camp-fire before midnight."

"If they have any camp-fires."

"They won't do without them in this fall weather unless ordered
especially to that effect, Life. An Alabama mountaineer loves his
camp-fire almost as well as he loves his moonshine whiskey."

"But the mountaineers are not exactly what we are after," insisted the
Kentuckian, who wanted to "corner" his companion, if he could, just for
the fun of it.

"A mountaineer can tell a lot of things, if you can make him talk," was
the major's significant response. "If Wheeler's cavalry is in this
vicinity you can lay odds on it that all the inhabitants of this wild
territory know it."