"Just as you say, Messinger. Don't you try to git away from me," the
latter words to Deck, spoken with great fierceness.

"If he tries to run for it, shoot him dead," ordered Messinger,
carelessly, and dismounting, he walked toward the house, and Chador
followed his suit.

The two Confederates had scarcely disappeared than the man sitting in
front of Deck turned his head so that he could look over his shoulder.

"Major Lyon, listen to me," he said earnestly. "You don't remember me,
because I've let my beard grow, and I'm dressed differently from what I
was when we met before. We met at McMinnville, where you risked your
life to save mine, in a burning cotton mill. I am Tom Derwiddie, and I
swore that if ever I could do you a good turn I would do it. I reckon
that time has come. Do you want to get away, or rather, are you willing
to take the risk?"

"Derwiddie!" gasped Deck, a flood of light bursting in on him. "Yes, I
wish to get away, if it can be done. But your duty--"

"Is to help the man as saved my life. You are not a spy, are you?"

"I am not."

"And if I help you to get away, you will try to get back to the Union
lines without delaying to pick up information."

"I will go as straight back as I can make it--I'll give you my word of
honor, Derwiddie."

"Then I won't be acting wrong in giving you a free rein. Now to my
plan--it's been in my head this last half hour. First, take my pistol."

"Yes, but you--"

"Now let me untie that rope on your hands," interrupted Derwiddie,
cutting the prisoner short. "We haven't a moment to spare. They may come
back at any moment. Remember, you are to take all three horses."

"All three?"

"Yes, all three. So that they will have a job to follow you."

"But yourself?"

"I will fall into the road, knocked out by you."

"Do you mean to say you want me to knock you out?" demanded Deck, who
thought that his newly discovered friend was "going it rather strong."

"I will do the deed, if you feel backward about it," answered Tom
Derwiddie, modestly.

"I certainly do feel backward, if that is what you are going to call it.
You are by far too much of a friend to be touched."

"But I must be knocked out, or my record won't bear investigation, Major
Lyon. Are you ready to gallop away on this horse?"

"Yes," answered Deck, promptly.

"All right, and don't forget to take those animals with you--at least
for a ways." The Confederate hesitated. "If I give you the password,
will you promise to use it only to get away on?"

"I will, and do."

The countersign was then given, and Derwiddie looked again toward the
house. Not a soul was in sight.

"Give me a small crack on the forehead with that pistol!" he cried.
"Right there!" and he indicated the spot over his left eye, at the same
time scratching it sufficiently hard to draw blood. "Now, strike--and
good luck go with you!"

Deck understood, and with his heart in his throat, struck out lightly.
As the pistol landed on Derwiddie's forehead, he threw up his arms and
reeled from the saddle. Pretending to stagger for a moment, he finally
pitched headlong on the rocks. He was far from overcome, but he lay like
a log where he had fallen.

The drama was on and the major did not waste an instant in making the
scene move along. Urging the horse to where the other animals were
standing, he gathered up the reins and placed one beast on either side
of him. Then, with his pistol ready for use, he started on a wild ride
down the trail leading past the corn-crib. He had covered less than a
hundred and fifty yards when a cry from the house told him that his
flight was discovered.




CHAPTER XXXI

THROUGH THE ENEMY'S LINES


The turn of affairs had been so sudden that Major Deck Lyon had had
hardly time enough to arrange any plan for escaping, now the chance to
get away was presented. Up to the time Tom Derwiddie had spoken to him
so confidentially he had not dreamed that he had a friend so close at
hand and one who was willing to do so much for him. Saving the
Confederate's life at the burning cotton mill had been a generous action
that was bearing splendid fruit, of which the major was destined to reap
the full benefit.

Deck had no idea where the road he was taking led to, but he imagined
that it would take him into the forest some distance beyond, and the
shelter of this heavy growth of timber would be far more acceptable than
would be a pursuit in the open.

Fortunately, the three horses were used to travelling together, so there
was no hitch here, and the speed made by all three was very good. When
the corn-crib was passed, Deck found himself passing through a stubble
field, but this was less than two hundred yards in length.

But, short as was the distance, it was not yet fully covered, when
Messinger appeared at the doorway of the farmhouse and gave the alarm.
He could not see Derwiddie lying on the ground, but he could see Deck,
and without pausing to think twice, he raised his pistol and fired
several shots in rapid succession.

Had the distance been less, or had Deck been standing still, he might
have been seriously wounded, for the second shot glanced along his thigh
and struck the horse he was riding in the fore-quarter. The horse
staggered and fell, and it was only by a quick leap that the young Union
officer saved himself from being trampled under the beast's hoofs.

Alarmed by the injury to their mate, the remaining horses gave a snort
and a bound and started to run. Deck tried to hold them, but was taken
off his feet. Rather than be dragged along the ground, he released the
reins, and like a flash the two animals left him to his fate.

All this had taken less time than it takes to relate it. Seeing the
effect of his shot, Messinger yelled to Chador, and both ran forth from
the house on a dead run, straight for where Deck lay.

As the major sprang up, bruised and covered with dust, he realized that
a crisis was at hand and that he must do something or stand the chance
of recapture. Luckily he had retained hold of the pistol Derwiddie had
given him, and raising this he fired on Messinger, who was several yards
in advance of his companion.

As we know, Deck had practised a good deal with a pistol, and although
the present weapon was not of the latest pattern, it could shoot
straight, and Deck's aim was as correct as the shooting qualities of the
firearm. The crack of the pistol had hardly died away than Messinger
gave a yell and began to dance around in awful anguish, the bullet
having taken off the thumb and first finger of his left hand and cut a
path over two of his ribs.

Seeing his companion struck, Chador came to a sudden halt; and when
Deck prepared to fire again, the cavalryman lost no time in seeking the
shelter of a slight rise of ground in the centre of the stubble field.
He threw himself flat, and then Messinger did the same.

"I wonder where Tom is?" asked Chador, as he looked ahead, to see that
Deck had turned once more and was speeding toward the woods.

"I don't know," groaned the leader of the Confederates. "Oh, my hand! I
must go back to the house and have it attended to." And he started back,
having, for the time being, lost all interest in going after the
escaping prisoner.

Unwilling to make the pursuit alone, especially in the face of what had
occurred, Chador concluded to fill in his time hunting up Derwiddie. At
the fork in the road he found the man lying where he had fallen, the
blood covering his forehead and one cheek.

"By gum! he's knocked out sure!" exclaimed Chador; and, getting down, he
placed his hand to Derwiddie's heart. Of course it beat as strongly as
ever, and, learning this, Chador ran for some water. As soon as the
water was being used, Derwiddie began to groan and opened his eyes.

"Where--where is he?" he moaned.

"He got away," answered Chador. "How did it happen?"

"Don't ask me," moaned Derwiddie. "Oh, the villain! Where is Messinger?
Why don't you stop him?"

"Messinger is shot in the hand, and the fellow skipped for the wood. I
see he took your pistol."

"That's so." Derwiddie gave another groan. "Carry me to the house, will
you, Bob? Oh, what an upsetting all around!"

Chador took up the man supposed to be "knocked out," and soon had him
comfortable on a lounge in the sitting room of the farmhouse. In the
meantime, Messinger was having two women folks care for his injured
hand. When he felt better, Derwiddie told a long story of Deck's attack
on him. "He was as strong as an ox, I couldn't do anything with him," he
said; and he likewise declared himself altogether too weak to take part
in any pursuit, so Chador was despatched to give the alarm to any
soldiers or cavalry he might run across in the neighborhood.

As soon as Messinger and Chador fell in the stubble field, Major Lyon
turned and continued on his way to the forest. The timber was soon
reached, and, without loss of time, he made his way among the trees for
a distance of several hundred feet. Deeming himself now safe for the
time being, he sat down on a fallen log to catch his breath and consider
what would be the next best move to make.

The darkness of night was beginning to fall over the vast battlefield;
and under the trees with their dense foliage, but little could be seen.
Deck listened attentively, but the only sounds which reached his ears
were the shrill cries of the birds, who were terrorized by the
long-continued booming of cannons and sharp cracking of musketry.
Occasionally the roar of a battery could be heard, or a shot from the
creek; but these were gradually dying away altogether, for both armies
were worn out through fighting and because of forced marches over the
uneven ground, and they were willing to leave the remainder of the
contest for another day.

Deck felt that his position was very trying, for more reasons than one
would readily imagine. In the first place, the wood was large and
dense, and wild animals were still to be hunted there,--and they
occasionally did a little hunting on their own account. To meet a
wildcat or a bear, or even a rattlesnake, would prove far from an
agreeable experience.

The wood was large, but it was entirely surrounded by open fields, and
the major had every reason to believe that some Confederate troops lay
back of them. As a matter of fact, nearly the whole of Breckinridge's
command were encamped less than half a mile away.

The distance to Chickamauga Creek was between a quarter and a half of a
mile, and how much of shelter lay in that direction was a problem still
to be solved. One thing was certain; if he wished to get over the creek
and into the Union lines again, the attempt must be made that night, and
he must trust to luck to find his way, although, to be sure, the night
was fair, and Deck had some knowledge of the stars and how to read the
heavens.

Ten minutes passed in which time Deck made not the slightest sound. No
one had come after him, and he rightfully guessed that he was safe for
the time being. He waited a little longer and then placing the pistol
in his belt, advanced cautiously through the forest in the direction he
calculated the creek must be located.

Presently a gleam of light reached his view, coming from a small hollow.
He crept forward noiselessly until he reached a fringe of bushes
bounding the hollow. From this point he beheld half a dozen Confederate
soldiers sitting around a small camp-fire, broiling a chicken spitted on
a bayonet. They were a merry crowd, and cracked many a joke in a low
tone as they waited for the dainty morsel to become done.

Deck did not view this scene long. Instead, he made a detour and
continued on his way until he came to a small brook. Here he stopped for
a much-needed drink. The brook was almost stationary, but a chip thrown
into the water showed him in which way it was flowing, and, taking it
for granted that the watercourse emptied itself into the Chickamauga, he
decided to follow its fairly straight direction.

He was proceeding along with increased confidence, when suddenly a negro
voice sounded upon his ear, coming from a road which crossed the brook.
A colored man was coming along, bringing with him half a dozen cavalry
horses that needed watering. The fellow seemed free from care and sang
"Dixie" with rare musical ability.

Not having time to cross the road before the colored man arrived, the
major drew back, thinking to make another detour, behind or in front of
man and animals. He wished very much that he had one of the horses, but
to gain one by force, he felt might lead to discovery and capture.

The horses were very thirsty, and crowded for the brook in a bunch.
There were several black chargers, one of white, and one of gray. As
they came closer Deck could not help but notice that they were all in
first-class condition, quite in contrast to many Confederate mounts he
had seen.

"Ceph! By all that's wonderful!"

The words burst from the major's lips ere he had time to realize the
injudiciousness of his remarks. He had caught sight of his own precious
animal, Ceph, who had been stolen from him while he was up in a tree at
the battle between the rocky defile and the swamp in Alabama. For the
moment he could scarcely credit his eyesight.

But if he wanted extra proof that it was really Ceph he was gazing upon,
the noble steed furnished it himself. At the sound of Deck's voice he
pricked up his ears and raised his head. Then he left the bunch of
horses and rushed straight for the young major and rubbed his soft nose
affectionately upon Deck's neck.

"Good, faithful old Ceph!" Deck could not help saying. "Where in the
world have you been? Oh, how I have missed you! They shan't take you
again, not if I can help it!" And he leaped into the saddle.

"Wha--what do dis mean, massa?" stammered the negro. "What right hab
you-un to dat hoss?"

"Every right in the world, Sambo," answered Deck. "The horse belongs to
me, don't you, Ceph?"

For answer Ceph gave a low snort of satisfaction.

"Belong to yo'? I fink dat's a mistake, massa. Dat am Captain Loring's
hoss, fo' suah," and the colored man shook his head decidedly. Then as
he came close enough to note what uniform Deck was wearing, he gave a
gasp of horror. "Fo' pity sake, massa, is you-un a--a Yankee?"

"Yes, I am, Sambo, and I want you to keep your mouth shut about this,"
replied Deck, sternly. "The horse is mine and always was mine, and I am
going to ride off on him. If you make any outcry I will shoot you."

"Don't go fo' to do dat, massa orsifer!" came with a shiver. "I won't
say a single word, 'deed I won't. But--but who's to take the
'sponsibility when Captain Loring find dat hoss ain't heah no mo'?"

"You'll be telling the truth when you say he got away from you,
Sambo,--for he did get away just now. Is this the way to Hall's Ford?"

"No, massa; dat's de way to Lee and Gordon's Mill."

"I don't know whether to believe you or not," said Deck, simply in order
to get the negro "mixed." "I guess I'll find Breckinridge's camp
somewhere around here. Now I'm off. If you give the alarm, remember,
I'll come back and put half a dozen bullets through your body."

"Won't say a word, massa orsifer," returned the negro in a more shaky
voice than ever.

"Very well, you'll be safe then--but not otherwise," concluded Deck, and
continued on his way down the brook.

He passed along as rapidly as Ceph could travel over the rocks and dirt,
keeping to the brook just so long as the negro remained in sight. As
soon as the colored man was lost to view, he turned at right angles to
the direction he had been travelling, to throw any possible pursuer off
the trail.

Having left the brook which had been his guide, the major found it no
easy matter to set himself right again concerning the direction of
Chickamauga Creek. The way was dark and uncertain, and it was not until
eleven o'clock that he came out at a point where a ledge of rock several
yards in height overlooked the stream that divided the armies of the
North and the South.

All was quiet; so quiet that one would imagine the neighborhood
deserted. But Major Lyon was not to be taken unawares, and leading Ceph
back into the brush, he made a survey of the situation on foot.
Presently he found a safe path into the stream, with no picket guards
within a hundred feet on either side. This just suited him, and in a few
minutes more, horse and rider were braving the current of the rolling
Chickamauga.

"Ceph could swim well, but not noiselessly, and they had not advanced
over fifty feet before a command came out of the darkness from down the
creek.

"Who is that out there? Speak, or I will fire!"

"What's that?" called back the major, at the same time urging Ceph
forward, and up the stream.

"Who are you?"

"A friend."

"Come back here then and give the countersign."

"I can give you that without coming back," went on Deck, and did so,
speaking just loud enough for his questioner to hear him.

"What are you doing out there?" went on the picket, only half satisfied.

"I am bound for the other shore to pick up some information."

"Who are you?"

"Have you ever heard of Captain Brentford, of General Bragg's staff?"

"You bet I have," was the quick return. "If it's you, Captain, it's all
right, and I wish you luck," and then the picket relapsed into silence.
He had once met Captain Brentford personally, and was greatly pleased to
have the supposed spy take him into his confidence.

Much relieved, Major Lyon continued on his way, and in five minutes the
Chickamauga had been crossed and he was on his way to find his command.
Were it not for going too far into his confidence, we could state that
he felt like hugging both himself and Ceph over their combined escape.




CHAPTER XXXII

THE SECOND DAY AT CHICKAMAUGA


"Deck!"

"Artie!"

And the two brothers rushed into each other's arms, while Colonel Lyon
stood by, his face full of joy over the return of his son. Artie had
told the story of Deck's capture, and both he and the colonel had felt
almost positive that they would not see the major again for a long while
to come, and perhaps never again.

"Yes, I've had a very fortunate escape," said Deck, as he shook his
father's hand. "I wouldn't be here at all were it not for Tom
Derwiddie."

"Tom Derwiddie?" queried Artie.

"Yes. Don't you remember him--the Confederate soldier I assisted at the
burning cotton mill?"

"And you met him?" put in Colonel Lyon.

"I did. I was placed in his charge for a few minutes, and he very
accommodatingly gave me his pistol, freed my hands, and let me knock
him down," continued the major, with a laugh, and then told his tale in
detail.

"Well, you are more than lucky," said Artie, when he had finished.
"Finding Ceph was worth a good deal, eh?"

"It was worth as much as escaping," answered Deck, and he stroked the
noble steed affectionately. "I wish you could tell your story, too, old
boy!" And Ceph gave him a poke with that nose of his. It seemed as if
the steed did most of his talking with that nose.

Others had gathered around, Captain Life Knox, Sandy Lyon, and Uncle
Titus, and Deck's story had to be retold to them. In the meantime he was
served with a hot supper, and later on, given the means to change his
wet clothing for dry.

"You ought to have something to tell the general," said Titus Lyon to
him. "Of course you kept your eyes and ears open while you were over
there."

"No, Uncle Titus, I didn't. I promised the fellow who assisted me to say
nothing, and I intend to keep my promise. But I wish I could have
collared that Captain Brentford, and brought him along."

The Riverlawns were encamped at the foot of a hill not far from Crawfish
Springs. It was a fine place for a camp, and many of the privates were
already sleeping soundly. Soon Deck and his relatives and friends
retired, only the pickets being kept awake. In spite of his adventures,
the major slumbered soundly, and did not arise until the Sabbath dawn
was well advanced.

It was felt by both sides that the morrow would tell the tale of defeat
or victory, and all night long Generals Rosecrans and Bragg were busy
arranging their plans. The former could get no reГ«nforcements worth
mentioning; but to the Army of Tennessee were now added reГ«nforcements
under General Longstreet, who arrived shortly before midnight, to assume
personal charge of the corps temporarily commanded by Hood. A rough
estimate of the troops on both sides at this time places the number of
Unionists at fifty-five thousand, as against nearly seventy thousand
Confederates. But what they lacked in numbers, the Army of the
Cumberland made up in position, for they occupied higher ground than
their opponents--something of great strategic importance, as we will
soon see.

It must be confessed that General Rosecrans's troops were all but
exhausted. Every soldier, excepting two divisions, had been thrown into
the fight on Saturday, and every division had marched and countermarched
until some of the infantry hardly knew whether they had feet or not. On
the other hand, Bragg had three divisions and three brigades who had not
participated in the battle, and who were thus fresh in every sense of
the word.

The battle was again to be for the Lafayette road and the mountain gaps
near it--the gateway to Chattanooga and the East. The centre of the
field was the farm owned by a man named Kelley. The battle front of the
Unionists ran around the northeast corner of the farm, across the
Lafayette road and to the southwestward. The firing line was more
compact than on Saturday, two brigades of each division being placed in
front, with the third brigade behind, in reserve. At the left of the
line was Baird, with Johnson, Palmer, and Reynolds following, in
something of a semicircle. South of this semicircle lay Brennan and
Negley, with Davis and Sheridan guarding the vicinity of the Widow
Glenn's--still Rosecrans's headquarters. As before, the cavalry was
stationed at both ends of the line, although the larger portion remained
between the Chickamauga and Crawfish Springs, to do regular duty and
also help guard the field hospital previously mentioned.

Bragg's forces overlapped those of Rosecrans's both on the right and the
left. Opposite to Baird was Breckinridge, who had just come up, with
Armstrong, Pegram, and Forrest overlapping the Unionists' left wing.
Next to Breckinridge came Cleburn, Steward, Johnson, and Hindman's
battery. Behind Johnson lay Law and Kershaw, with Cheatham and Walker
still further back, on the right; while Gracie, Kelly, and Preston were
to the rear on the left.

During the night the Army of the Cumberland was not idle, even though a
majority of the soldiers slept soundly. The pioneers were out in force,
with the Engineering Corps, and many barricades of trees, logs, and
brush were piled up, along with sods and loose rocks. The Confederates
heard the ringing of axes and the crashing of timber as it came down,
but could do nothing toward stopping the construction of these defences.

Sunday morning dawned with a heavy fog filling the valleys--a fog so
dense that the mountains were shut out, giving the battle-ground, from
every point of view, the appearance of a ghostly plain. This fog did not
begin to lift until nine or ten o'clock. Bragg had given Polk orders to
begin the battle, but minute after minute passed and the Confederate
leader sat impatiently astride of his horse, waiting in vain for the
sounds of the conflict.

"What is the matter with Polk,--why in common sense doesn't he do
something?" General Bragg is reported to have said, and started off for
the right wing personally. He found Polk absent from the field and no
preparations being made to attack Baird. As the fog lifted, he saw how
his right overlapped the Union left, and how the Rossville road was thus
left open, and Breckinridge and Cleburn were given orders to advance
without delay.

In the meantime Thomas had ordered Negley to reГ«nforce Baird. But only
one division could be spared, which was rushed to the scene with all
possible speed, and that was all the support the left flank received.

At half past nine the battle was on, Breckinridge and Cleburn coming
swiftly onward with a ringing yell, to meet a sturdy resistance from
Baird and Beatty's division of Negley's brigade. The contest was fierce
from the very opening, and for a while it looked as if the left flank
would be completely annihilated and Baird's command made prisoners. But
regiments and divisions under Johnson, Stanley, and Vandever were
hurried to the scene, and, suffering heavily, Breckinridge was thrown
back, with two generals killed and his chief of artillery mortally
wounded.

By this time the battle had extended down the line, and now Cleburn,
Walker, Cheatham, and others became involved. The artillery on both
sides were pouring forth shot, shell, and canister at a fearful rate,
and whole lines of brave infantry were mowed down like blades of grass.

With the repulse of the Confederates' right the hopes of the Unionists
ran high, but when victory seemed almost assured, a grave blunder at
the Union centre brought fearful disaster to the Army of the Cumberland.
Receiving an order to close up to Reynolds, Wood took it to mean that he
was to fall back in support, and he left the Union centre to do this.
The gap was quickly filled by Longstreet, and thus the right and left
wings of the Army of the Cumberland became separated, and henceforth two
battles ensued instead of one, on ground from a half a mile to one mile
apart. To the east of Kelley's Farm and the Lafayette road were Baird,
Johnson, Palmer, and Reynolds, still in their old semicircle, while to
the westward of the road was a jagged, but unbroken, line composed of
nearly all the other troops. The Confederate forces lay scattered in
several directions, but principally in front of both of the positions
mentioned.

The disaster to the centre, followed by a determined attack on the
right, was more than the Union troops could bear, and they were forced
to give up ground, until another stand was taken, as described above. In
the meantime, Thomas was in ignorance of the state of affairs on the
right, yet he soon discovered that he was fighting more than his share
of the enemy on the left. He had massed his artillery on the slopes of
Missionary Ridge, and now he withdrew from his breastworks of trees and
dirt, and took up a position here. To get to the ridge was no easy work,
and the slaughter counted up into the thousands upon both sides.

A pause in the tide of battle followed. Like two giants the armies faced
each other, getting their "second wind," and speculating on how to
proceed next. Thomas held the ridge and the Confederates were bound to
drive him from it and shatter his forces. It was two o'clock and assault
after assault was made, lasting until sundown. At times the Confederates
would gain a slope or a minor ridge, but a Union division or a brigade
would rush upon them and dislodge them, or a battery would literally cut
them to pieces. The charges were truly magnificent, but Thomas and his
forces stood like so many rocks, and could not be dislodged. At sundown
the attacks ceased, and it was well that this was so, for many of the
Union troops were short of ammunition. In some cases the latter attacks
were repulsed solely with bayonets and clubbed muskets.

With the coming of night, it was deemed advisable to have Thomas's
forces withdraw in the direction of Chattanooga, and this plan was
carried out, although not without additional fighting, in which a few
men were lost and a large number of infantry were made prisoners. By
this movement the Army of the Cumberland was again reunited, and stood
once more as a wall between General Bragg and Chattanooga.

When Major Deck Lyon awoke in the morning he found the encampment of the
Riverlawns submerged in mist so thick it almost appeared as if it was
raining. Major Tom Belthorpe and Captain Artie Lyon were already astir,
and the three gathered together, to talk over the situation.

They were not, however, left alone long. Colonel Lyon had already been
moving around, surveying the "lay of the land," and had made the
discovery that a large portion of the enemy had crossed the Chickamauga.
While an early breakfast was being eaten, orders came to march the
regiment up to a position midway between the creek and the hospital on
the field.

The road ran for some distance parallel with the creek, with short
brush on one side and a sparse growth of trees on the other. It was
uneven and the cavalry had torn it up considerably.

The first battalion was well in advance, when, without warning, a
regiment of the enemy poured down on them from the woods. The first
intimation of the proximity of the Confederates was a round from four
companies, which tore through the ranks of Captain Artie Lyon's command,
killing three and wounding twice as many more.

Without waiting for orders from the colonel, who was riding in the rear,
watching Major Truman's battalion, Major Deck Lyon called a halt, and
swung the first and second companies into position. "Take aim--fire!"
was the command, and the bullets clipped hither and thither through the
trees. One Confederate was thus taken unawares and the whole regiment
brought to a halt.

But though repulsed, the enemy did not halt long. In less than a minute
the Confederate colonel gave the command for nearly his whole regiment
to advance, and the leading companies came out of the timber on the
double-quick. A portion of them fired again at the first battalion of
the Riverlawns while the remainder reserved their ammunition for Tom
Belthorpe's four companies.

Colonel Lyon now galloped up and looked inquiringly at his son. "Deck,
what does this mean?"

"We are caught, father, that is what it means," answered the major. "If
you will allow me to say so, I think we had best re-form behind yonder
brush."

"I will take your advice, for you have felt the enemy," said Colonel
Lyon, and lost not an instant in giving the necessary orders. By the
time the shelter of the brush was gained, the firing line of the
Confederates was fairly well defined, and the colonel placed his own
men, four companies abreast, and two companies deep, with the second
half of the second battalion and the second half of the third battalion
in reserve. Ten sharpshooters from Captain Life Knox's command and an
equal number from Captain Ripley's company were detached, to make a
detour and learn the true fighting force of the body thus suddenly
encountered.

The Confederates had advanced as far as the edge of the woods. Between
this and the road lay a small patch of grass, so that the cleared space
between the brush and the first row of timber was a little over a
hundred feet. The brush was heavy along the road, and the first row of
the Riverlawns, dismounted, were as close up to this natural defence as
possible.

The open space disturbed the Confederate colonel and he hardly knew
whether to trust a rush across it or not. But, finally, he gave the
order, and four of his companies came on, spread out in a skirmish line.
They fired as they came, and received a sharp fire in return. At the
brush they hesitated, and while doing this, received a volley from the
Riverlawns behind.

"This is going to be warm work!" observed Major Belthorpe to Deck, as he
galloped up on his black charger. "That fellow must have a good reserve
force somewhere back there."

"Ripley and Knox have found them, that's certain," answered Deck, as a
rattle of guns came from the sides of the enemy. "We'll soon get their
report."

At that instant Colonel Lyon dashed up.

"There are but eleven companies of them," he said. "I think by a rapid
dash to the north we can turn their flank and either make them retreat
or surrender."

"Let us make the move then," said Belthorpe, and Colonel Lyon gave the
orders. Soon the Riverlawns were in rapid motion, to the Confederates'
surprise, and likewise their bewilderment.




CHAPTER XXXIII

CAPTAIN ARTIE LYON IS SHOT DOWN


Life Knox was responsible for the movement which was now being made. He
had not only aided in uncovering the true strength of the enemy opposed
to the Riverlawns, but he had made a discovery that he considered of
great importance. Colonel Lyon had agreed with him and had acted on his
advice.

As has been said, the timber faced the road. It was uneven ground, and
to the north there was a sharp rise, running from the highway to a
regular cliff ten rods to the rear. To the south, the rise sloped away
into a hollow, at the lower end of which was a swamp having apparently
no outlet.

The Confederate regiment had come upon the Riverlawns at a spot midway
between the rise of ground and the swamp. If, therefore, the Riverlawns
could gain the high ground, they would command the situation, for the
enemy would either have to retreat to the swamp, or take to the highway
and the field.

Colonel Lyon well knew that success depended very largely upon quickness
of movement, and the order was passed to make the quickest time possible
in advancing as indicated. All the Riverlawns' horses were of the best,
and the way they tore over the brush and up the highway was marvellous
to behold.

"After 'em boys, we have 'em on the run!" shouted one of the Confederate
majors, and he started his battalion along the highway. He was given the
chance to fire one volley, and received another in return, from Major
Truman's command. He would have kept on running had not his colonel
ordered him back. The Confederate commander knew there was no need for
the Unionists to retreat and began to "smell a mouse."

The high ground was gained, and the first battalion, under Deck,
galloped into the open timber. Life Knox, who had just been over the
ground, rode in advance, as a guide. The ground was rough, but Life was
a thorough backwoodsman and easily pointed out the best trail. In less
than five minutes the whole regiment was behind the shelter of the
trees, and by this time the first and second companies occupied
positions directly in the rear of the Confederate reserves.

The reserves numbered but a company and a half, and not knowing what was
taking place, the ranking captain ordered one round to be fired, and,
receiving a round in return from the whole first battalion, started on a
rapid retreat, to bring up against the companies from the road, which
had just been turned in that direction.

These counter-movements in the timber, where the ground was sloping and
rough, caused something of a mix-up, and before the Confederate colonel
could bring order out of chaos, Colonel Lyon was swooping down upon him
from the higher ground. The first and the third battalions were called
into this action, and the Confederates ran like sheep down the slope
toward the swamp.

As usual Deck was in the lead, and almost before he knew it he found
himself face to face with the Confederate captain who had commanded the
reserves. The captain was mounted like himself and fired at him with his
pistol, while the two were less than five yards apart.

[Illustration: HE FOUND HIMSELF FACE TO FACE WITH THE CONFEDERATE
CAPTAIN.

_Page_ 428.]

A lucky leap on Ceph's part saved Deck from serious injury, if not from
death, and in a flash captain and major came together, and sword met
sabre in strokes which brought forth flashes of fire. The captain was a
heavy-built man of twice Deck's age, and as their blades came together
the major realized that he had engaged an opponent worthy of his steel.

Since joining the army, Major Lyon had practised industriously upon the
sabre exercise, until he could handle that blade about as well as any
officer, with a few exceptions. The captain was skilled in the use of
the sword, and had it not been for the more important battle around
them, both might have taken time to "try for points." But the present
contest was not merely one of skill, it was one for supremacy, and Deck
went at his man with a will from the very outset.

A parry and a thrust, and Deck felt the cold steel touch him in the rib.
But a rearing up by Ceph saved him from serious injury, and he went at
his man again. They had circled half way around, so that neither had an
advantage, so far as the ground was concerned.

Suddenly the captain made a savage blow for Deck's neck, putting forth
all his strength and quickness in the motion. Had the blow fallen as
intended, the major's head might have fallen from his shoulders.

But Deck was wide awake, and warded off the blow by an upper-cut which
nicked his sabre, but did no further damage. Before the captain could
recover, the major threw his sabre over on a side thrust, and the
Confederate received the point of the blade in his shoulder.

"Oh!" groaned the victim, and gave a gasp. He tried to recover, but
Major Lyon was too fast for him. He hit the sword sharply, and in a
twinkling it sailed into the trees, to lodge among some small branches.
The weapon had hardly left the captain's hand when a riderless horse ran
against his own, and he went down, under the runaway's feet. Ceph
swerved to one side; and then Deck was carried away from the scene of
the stirring encounter.

The combat had warmed the major's blood, and he rode to regain the front
of his battalion. It was some distance down the slope, and as he moved
along he saw Sandy Lyon having a hard time of it with two Confederate
sergeants, who seemed determined to bring the acting captain of the
fifth company to grief. All three combatants were on foot, and it was a
case of two pistols against a sabre, for Sandy's weapon was empty.

As Deck came up at full speed, or rather, as rapidly as the nature of
the ground permitted, he saw his cousin on one knee, he having received
an ugly wound below the left knee. One Confederate sergeant had fired
his shot, and now his companion was about to follow it with a second,
aimed at the acting captain's head.

Sandy Lyon made a stroke at the pistol with his sabre, but failed to
reached it. The Confederate pulled the trigger, and it must be confessed
that the young man who had fought so bravely since joining the
Riverlawns gave himself up for lost. Even to Deck it looked as if Sandy
was about to join his brother Orly as another victim of the grim Civil
War.

But the pistol snapped without going off, the weapon being an old one
and out of repair. "Hang the luck!" muttered the Confederate, and
readjusted the trigger.

But Deck was too quick for him, and as the major's weapon rang out, the
Confederate's arm dropped to his side and the pistol fell to the ground.
The major fired again, striking the second sergeant in the shoulder, and
a moment later both surrendered and were made prisoners.

"It was a good turn, Deck!" murmured Sandy Lyon, and he tried to rise.
But the pain in his wounded leg was too great, and he fainted. Calling
two privates, Deck had him carried to the rear, and he was, later on,
removed to the hospital at Crawfish Springs.

As expected, the Confederate regiment had, with the exception of two
companies, been driven down to the swampy ground, and here they tried to
take a stand. Their colonel had been wounded, one major was dead, and
the several companies were hopelessly mixed up. The two missing
companies had taken to the highway, thinking the others would follow.

"I think we have the fellows where we want them," said Colonel Lyon,
riding up to his son. "Dexter, don't you think you can follow those who
took to the road?"

"Certainly, I can," was the prompt reply from Deck, although he could
not help but wonder how bad that wound in the rib was. "How many
companies got away?"

"Not more than two. You might take three companies with you."

"All right, Colonel," replied Deck, and started to find the companies in
question.

Captain Abbey was busy down at the very edge of the swamp, but the
second, third, and fourth companies were somewhat in the rear,--for the
fierce hand-to-hand fighting had caused the battalion formations to
disappear, although the companies were still in uneven lines. In a few
words Deck explained to Captains Blenks and Richland, and his brother,
what was expected of them, and the three companies swung around and made
through the timber for the highway.

The Confederates had gone up the road a little beyond the rise. Here
their leader had halted them, and sent back several messengers to tell
of what he had done. The messengers were midway between the retreating
troops and the scene of the conflict when Deck's command came upon them.
There were three Confederates, and they came to a sudden stop in deep
perplexity.

"Surrender!" cried Captain Blenks, who was at the front with the major.
And as the Confederates made no sign he turned to his superior. "Shall I
open on them, Major Lyon?"

"Yes," answered Deck, as one of the trio raised his pistol. He was about
to fire when the second company sent in a volley, and the man dropped.
The others turned and sped for their company at the best speed their
legs could command.

"Forward!" ordered Major Deck, and away went the three companies up the
highway until within two hundred yards of the Confederates. As they came
up over the rise the enemy opened upon them, and they returned the fire.
Then Deck turned to his brother.

"Artie, move over into the field and to their right," he said. "The
other companies can handle them from the front."

Without delay Captain Artie Lyon switched off as commanded. The second
company was sent to the opposite side, where there was a slight break in
the timber.

The Confederate ranking captain, seeing this new move, and realizing
that his command was not more than three-quarters as strong as the
enemy, resolved to continue his retreat. But the road curved and this
brought him closer and closer to the position Artie Lyon's company was
riding for, a split in the road where there was a wide open field backed
by some rocks impossible to travel across. Before the Confederate had
time to think twice, Artie gave him two volleys, and, maddened beyond
endurance, the Confederate ordered a charge in the hope of breaking
through the Union line and rejoining the balance of the regiment of the
South.

The rush was such as only certain Southern commands were in the habit of
making, a wild, delirious oncoming, with but one purpose,--to crush all
that was in front, regardless of consequences. These rushes were truly
soul-inspiring and worthy of a better cause. In many cases they brought
victory, but the victory was literally drowned out by the blood which
flowed.

It was so in the present case. Captain Artie's company met the shock
like true soldiers fighting for a cause they knew was both lofty and
just. The clash of steel, the crack of musketry, the din, confusion, and
smoke, the yelling and cheering, were beyond description. It was a
hand-to-hand encounter, in which every man had to do for himself,
leaving his nearest neighbor to do as he saw fit.

The shock came before Major Lyon could do anything to prevent it; but
without waiting an instant he ordered the other companies to this part
of the field, and both commands fired as they ran, aiming at the rear
lines of the Confederates, which were not yet mixed up in the mГЄlГ©e. The
companies then went into close action, Captain Richland's men actually
riding over the last line of the enemy.

Deck saw that Artie was being hard pressed personally, having gone
directly to the front to urge his command to stand firm. The young
captain was daring to the last degree. "Don't give them an inch!" he
shouted. "Down with them! Drive them back, boys!" And the "boys" did
drive them back, twenty yards or more. Artie was waving his sabre on
high and continued in the front, when suddenly Deck was horrified to see
him throw up both arms, reel from the saddle, and disappear from view in
the surging mass of cavalrymen and infantry around him.

"Artie!" he cried, but the tumult drowned Deck's voice. Forgetting aught
else, he urged Ceph into the lines and straight for that fatal spot,
fully expecting to find poor Artie a corpse. He had yet a dozen yards to
go when he saw Second Lieutenant Milton falling back bearing the young
captain in his arms. Artie's eyes were closed, and the clothing about
his left side was saturated with blood.

"Dead?" asked the major, hoarsely. He could scarcely speak.

"I'm afraid so, Major; but I'm not certain," was the answer. "Shall I
take him to the rear?"

"Yes, Lieutenant, and see that he gets the best of care if he still
lives," said Deck. "I will come myself, as soon as I can."

By this time the other companies had rushed in, and now the major found
it absolutely necessary to re-form his battalion of three companies.
This was done inside of five minutes, and by this time the force of the
first shock was over; but the Confederates had lost nearly one-third of
their command, while Captain Artie's company had fared little better.

Finding the rush of no avail, so far as breaking through was concerned,
the Confederate leader thought once again of retreating. But Deck had
hemmed him in, and a galling fire from the front and the left brought
him to his wit's end. The fire was about to be repeated, when the second
captain of the Confederates interfered, and after a few words had passed
between him and his superior, a flag of truce was hoisted. The prisoners
taken numbered exactly thirty-seven, all the other Confederates being
either wounded or dead.

The fight had hardly drawn to a close when Colonel Lyon's orderly dashed
up, to learn from Deck how things were going.

"They have surrendered," answered the major. "Their loss is very heavy
and ours is likewise considerable--due entirely to their pig-headed
leader, who kept on fighting when he should have saved his men and
surrendered," he added, with perhaps more bitterness than was necessary.
He was thinking of poor Artie.

"We have taken about half of the men in the swamp, and the battle is
over there, also," said the orderly. "The remaining troops escaped into
the timber, and Captain Knox's company has gone after them."

"Tell Colonel Lyon that Captain Artie Lyon is either dead or badly
wounded," said Deck, and rode off, to learn the truth concerning his
cousin and foster-brother's condition.




CHAPTER XXXIV

MAJOR LYON MAKES A DISCOVERY AND DELIVERS A MESSAGE


Deck found Artie lying in a sheltered spot, on a hastily constructed
couch of pine boughs. Over the wounded young man stood Surgeon
Farnwright, binding up a ghastly wound in the shoulder.

"What do you think of this, Surgeon?" asked the major, anxiously.

"Your brother is in a bad way, Major," was the grave response. "The
bullet has shattered the shoulder blade and gone into the back."

"What are his chances of recovery, in your opinion?"

"Not the best, to be candid. They would be better if he could be removed
immediately to some house where he would not be disturbed. In such cases
as these, sudden jarrings are ofttimes fatal."

"I will see what can be done for him," went on Deck. "In the meantime,
do your best for him."

"I always do my best in all our cases, Major," returned the surgeon, and
turned away to aid some others who were wounded.

In a few minutes Colonel Lyon rode up and was taken to Artie's side. The
poor fellow was now conscious, and on seeing them he tried to smile, but
the attempt was a sickly one.

"Don't talk, Artie," said the colonel, as he saw the young captain make
the attempt. "We will do what we can for you, and your recovery depends
upon your keeping quiet."

"If you will relieve me from duty, I will try to find some house to
which Artie can be taken," put in Deck. "I am afraid the field hospital
is too far off."

"The trouble is, if we take him to a private place he will have no
doctor's care," answered Colonel Lyon. "Surgeon Farnwright must remain
with the others that are wounded."

At this announcement Deck's hopes fell for an instant. "Well, I'll see
what I can do anyway--if you will let me off," he returned soberly. "It
would be too bad to have him die for the want of care. Mother would
never forgive us--or Dorcas and Hope."

"That is true, Dexter." The colonel's voice sounded strangely husky. "Do
your best,--and spare no money, if money is of avail," and he turned to
consult with Surgeon Farnwright once more.

The major had noticed, during the ride along the timber road, a little
farmhouse, set in a grove of walnuts, standing about a quarter of a mile
back from the scene of the battle described in the last chapter. He now
set off for this farmhouse post-haste, to see what accommodations it
might offer.

It was past noon, and from a distance came a heavy firing. Although he
did not know it, the Confederate cavalry had crossed the creek in force,
and were now charging straight for Crawfish Springs and the hospital
located there. The brigade under Colonel Long was sustaining the main
attack, although other of General Mitchell's cavalry was in the
vicinity.

As Deck rode toward the farmhouse, he noticed that all of the lower
windows were boarded up, as if to resist an invasion. Some of the upper
windows were also served in the same way, but two or three of them were
partly unprotected.

Riding to the door, he dismounted, and used the iron knocker lustily.
The clank-clank brought forth no reply, and he used the knocker again,
with additional force.

"Please don't hammer that door down!" came in a shrill female voice, and
now the head of an elderly lady appeared at one of the upper windows.
The lady carried a pistol of ancient pattern in her hand, and her
wrinkled face was full of determination.

"I should like to talk to you," said Deck, and he felt half like smiling
when he saw the old-time weapon.

"I don't want to talk to you," was the short reply. "I have nothing to
do with this war."

"I am sorry to disturb you, madam, but one of our captains has been
badly wounded and he is in need of some quiet spot where he can rest."

"My place is no hospital, sir. Take him to the regular army hospital."

"Unfortunately, that is just what we cannot do--for the present. He
needs absolute quiet, or he may die."