Chapter VI. Mill Spring

The Guns of Shiloh

by Joseph A. Altsheler

Garfield's camp was on a little group of hills in a very strong
position, and his men, flushed with victory, were eager for another
encounter with the enemy. They had plenty of good tents to fend
them from the winter weather which had often been bitter.
Throughout the camp burned large fires for which they had an almost
unbroken wilderness to furnish fuel. The whole aspect of the place
was pleasing to the men who had marched far and hard.

Major Hertford and his aides, Richard Mason and George Warner,
were received in Colonel Garfield's tent. A slim young man, writing
dispatches at a rude little pine table, rose to receive them. He
did not seem to Dick to be more than thirty, and he had the thin,
scholarly face of a student. His manner was attractive, he shook
hands warmly with all three of them and said:

"Reinforcements are most welcome indeed. My own work here
seems to be largely done, but you will reach General Thomas in
another day, and he needs you. Take my chair, Major Hertford. To
you two lads I can offer only stumps."

The tent had been pitched over a spot where three stumps had
been smoothed off carefully until they made acceptable seats. One
end of the tent was entirely open, facing a glowing fire of oak
logs. Dick and Warner sat down on the stumps and spread out their
hands to the blaze. Beyond the flames they saw the wintry forest and
mountains, seemingly as wild as they were when the first white man
came.

The usual coffee and food were brought, and while they ate and
drank Major Hertford answered the numerous and pertinent questions
of Colonel Garfield. He listened attentively to the account of the
fight in the mountains, and to all the news that they could tell him
of Washington.

"We have been cut off in these mountains," he said. "I know
very little of what is going on, but what you say only confirms my
own opinion. The war is rapidly spreading over a much greater area,
and I believe that its scope will far exceed any of our earlier
calculations."

A grave and rather sad expression occupied for a moment the
mobile face. He interested Dick greatly. He seemed to him scholar
and thinker as well as soldier. He and Warner long afterward
attended the inauguration of this man as President of the United
States.

After a brief rest, and good wishes from Garfield, Major
Hertford and his command soon reached the main camp under Thomas.
Here they were received by a man very different in appearance and
manner from Garfield.

General George H. Thomas, who was to receive the famous title,
"The Rock of Chickamauga," was then in middle years. Heavily built
and bearded, he was chary of words. He merely nodded approval when
Major Hertford told of their march.

"I will assign your troops to a brigade," he said, "and I
don't think you'll have long to wait. We're expecting a battle in a
few days with Crittenden and Zollicoffer."

"Not much to say," remarked Dick to Warner, as they went
away.

"That's true," said Warner, thoughtfully, "but didn't you get
an impression of strength from his very silence? I should say that
in his make-up he is five per cent talk, twenty-five per cent
patience and seventy per cent action; total, one hundred per
cent."

The region in which they lay was west of the higher mountains,
which they had now crossed, but it was very rough and hilly. Not
far from them was a little town called Somerset, which Dick had
visited once, and near by, too, was the deep and swift Cumberland
River, with much floating ice at its edges. When the two lads lay
by a campfire that night Sergeant Whitley came to them with the news
of the situation, which he had picked up in his usual deft and quiet
way.

"The Southern army is on the banks of the Cumberland," he
said. "It has not been able to get its provisions by land through
Cumberland Gap. Instead they have been brought by boats on the
river. As I hear it, Crittenden and Zollicoffer are afraid that our
general will advance to the river an' cut off these supplies. So
they mean to attack us as soon as they can. If I may venture to say
so, Mr. Mason, I'd advise that you and Lieutenant Warner get as good
a rest as you can, and as soon as you can."

They ate a hearty supper and being told by Major Hertford that
they would not be wanted until the next day, they rolled themselves
in heavy blankets, and, pointing their feet toward a good fire,
slept on the ground. The night was very cold, because it was now
the middle of January, but the blankets and fire kept them warm.

Dick did not fall to sleep for some time, because he knew that
he was going into battle again in a few days. He was on the soil of
his native state now. He had already seen many Kentuckians in the
army of Thomas and he knew that they would be numerous, too, in that
of Crittenden and Zollicoffer. To some extent it would be a battle
of brother against brother. He was glad that Harry Kenton was in
the east. He did not wish in the height of battle to see his own
cousin again on the opposite side.

But when he did fall asleep his slumber was sound and restful,
and he was ready and eager the next morning, when the sergeant,
Warner, and he were detached for duty in a scouting party.

"The general has asked that you be sent owing to your
experience in the mountains," said Major Hertford, "and I have
agreed gladly. I hope that you're as glad as I am."

"We are, sir," said the two boys together. The sergeant stood
quietly by and smiled.

The detachment numbered a hundred men, all young, strong, and
well mounted. They were commanded by a young captain, John Markham,
in whom Dick recognized a distant relative. In those days nearly
all Kentuckians were more or less akin. The kinship was sufficient
for Markham to keep the two boys on either side of him with Sergeant
Whitley just behind. Markham lived in Frankfort and he had marched
with Thomas from the cantonments at Lebanon to their present
camp.

"John," said Dick, addressing him familiarly and in right of
kinship, "you've been for months in our own county. You've surely
heard something from Pendleton?"

He could not disguise the anxiety in his voice, and the young
captain regarded him with sympathy.

"I had news from there about a month ago, Dick," he replied.
"Your mother was well then, as I have no doubt she is now. The
place was not troubled by guerillas who are hanging on the fringe of
the armies here in Eastern, or in Southern and Western Kentucky.
The war for the present at least has passed around Pendleton.
Colonel Kenton was at Bowling Green with Albert Sidney Johnston, and
his son, Harry, your cousin, is still in the East."

It was a rapid and condensed statement, but it was very
satisfying to Dick who now rode on for a long time in silence. The
road was as bad as a road could be. Snow and ice were mixed with
the deep mud which pulled hard at the hoofs of their horses. The
country was rough, sterile, and inhabited but thinly. They rode
many miles without meeting a single human being. About the third
hour they saw a man and a boy on a hillside several hundred yards
away, but when Captain Markham and a chosen few galloped towards
them they disappeared so deftly among the woods that not a trace of
them could be found.

"People in this region are certainly bashful," said Captain
Markham with a vexed laugh. "We meant them no harm, but they
wouldn't stay to see us."

"But they don't know that," said Dick with the familiarity of
kinship, even though distant. "I fancy that the people hereabouts
wish both Northerners and Southerners would go away."

Two miles further on they came to a large, double cabin
standing back a little distance from the road. Smoke was rising
from the chimney, and Captain Markham felt sure that they could
obtain information from its inmates. Dick, at his direction, beat
on the door with the butt of a small riding whip. There was no
response. He beat again rapidly and heavily, and no answer coming
he pushed in the door.

A fire was burning on the hearth, but the house was abandoned.
Nor had the owners been gone long. Besides the fire to prove it,
clothing was hanging on hooks in the wall, and there was food in the
cupboard. Captain Markham sighed.

"Again they're afraid of us," he said. "I've no doubt the
signal has been passed ahead of us, and that we'll not get within
speaking distance of a single native. Curious, too, because this
region in the main is for the North."

"Perhaps somebody has been robbing and plundering in our
name," said Dick. "Skelly and his raiders have been through these
parts."

"That's so," said Markham, thoughtfully. "I'm afraid those
guerillas who claim to be our allies are going to do us a great deal
of harm. Well, we'll turn back into the road, if you can call this
stream of icy mud a road, and go on."

Another mile and they caught the gleam of water among the
wintry boughs. Dick knew that it was the Cumberland which was now a
Southern artery, bringing stores and arms for the army of Crittenden
and Zollicoffer. Even here, hundreds of miles from its mouth, it was
a stream of great depth, easily navigable, and far down its current
they saw faintly the smoke of two steamers.

"They bear supplies for the Southern army," said Captain
Markham. "We can cut off the passage of boats on this river and for
that reason, so General Thomas concludes, the Southern army is going
to attack us. What do you think of his reasoning, sergeant?"

"Beggin' your pardon, sir, for passin' an opinion upon my
general," replied Sergeant Whitley, "but I think his reasons are
good. Here it is the dead of winter, with more mud in the roads
than I ever saw before anywhere, but there's bound to be a battle
right away. Men will fight, sir, to keep from losin' their
grub."

A man rode forward from the ranks, saluted and asked leave to
speak. He was a native of the next county and knew that region well.
Two miles east of them and running parallel with the road over
which they had come was another and much wider road, the one that
they called the big road.

"Which means, I suppose, that it contains more mud than this
one," said Captain Markham.

"True, sir," replied the man, "but if the rebel army is
advancing it is likely to be on that road."

"That is certainly sound logic. At least we'll go there and
see. Can you lead us through these woods to it?"

"I can take you straight across," replied the man whose name
was Carpenter. "But on the way we'll have to ford a creek which is
likely to be pretty deep at this time of the year."

"Show the way," said Captain Markham briskly.

They plunged into the deep woods, and Carpenter guided them
well. The creek, of which he had told, was running bankful of icy
water, but their horses swam it and they kept straight ahead until
Carpenter, who was a little in advance, held up a warning hand.

Captain Markham ordered his whole troop to stop and keep as
quiet as possible. Then he, Dick, Warner, Sergeant Whitley and
Carpenter rode slowly forward. Before they had gone many yards Dick
heard the heavy clank of metal, the cracking of whips, the swearing
of men, and the sound of horses' feet splashing in the mud. He knew
by the amount and variety of the noises that a great force was
passing.

They advanced a little further and reined into a clump of
bushes which despite their lack of leaves were dense enough to
shelter them from observation. As the bushes grew on a hillock they
had a downward and good look into the road, which was fairly packed
with men in the gray of the Confederate army, some on horseback, but
mostly afoot, their cannon, ammunition and supply wagons sinking
almost to the hub in the mud. As far as Dick could see the gray
columns extended.

"There must be six or seven thousand men here," he said to
Captain Markham.

"Undoubtedly," replied Markham, "this is the main Confederate
army advancing to attack ours, but the badness of the roads operates
against the offense. We shall reach General Thomas with the word
that they are coming long before they are there."

They watched the marching army for a half hour longer in order
to be sure of everything, and then turning they rode as fast as they
could toward Thomas, elated at their success. They swam the creek
again, but at another point. Carpenter told them that the Southern
army would cross it on a bridge, and Markham lamented that he could
not turn and destroy this bridge, but such an attempt would have
been folly.

They finally turned into the main road along which the
Southern army was coming, although they were now miles ahead of it,
and, covered from head to foot with the red mud of the hills, they
urged on their worn horses toward the camp of Thomas.

"I haven't had much experience in fighting, but I should
imagine that complete preparation had a great deal to do with
success," said Captain Markham.

"I'd put it at sixty per cent," said Warner.

"I should say," added Dick, "that the road makes at least
eighty per cent of our difficulty in getting back to Thomas."

In fact, the road was so bad that they were compelled after a
while to ride into the woods and let their ponies rest. Here they
were fired upon by Confederate skirmishers from a hill two or three
hundred yards away. Their numbers were small, however, and Captain
Markham's force charging them drove them off without loss.

Then they resumed their weary journey, but the rest had not
fully restored the horses and they were compelled at times to walk
by the side of the road, leading their mounts. Sergeant Whitley,
with his age and experience, was most useful now in restraining the
impatient young men. Although of but humble rank he kept them from
exhausting either themselves or their horses.

"It will be long after dark before we can reach camp," said
Captain Markham, sighing deeply. "Confound such roads. Why not
call them morasses and have done with it!"

"No, we can't make it much before midnight," said Dick, "but,
after all, that will be early enough. If I judge him right, even
midnight won't catch General Thomas asleep."

"You've judged him right," said Markham. "I've been with
'Pap' Thomas some time--we call him 'Pap' because he takes such good
care of us--and I think he is going to be one of the biggest
generals in this war. Always silent, and sometimes slow about making
up his mind he strikes like a sledge-hammer when he does strike."

"He'll certainly have the opportunity to give blow for blow,"
said Dick, as he remembered that marching army behind them. "How
far do you think it is yet to the general's camp?"

"Not more than a half dozen miles, but it will be dark in a
few minutes, and at the rate we're going it will take us two full
hours more to get there."

The wintry days were short and the sun slid down the gray,
cold sky, leaving forest and hills in darkness. But the little band
toiled patiently on, while the night deepened and darkened, and a
chill wind whistled down from the ridges. The officers were silent
now, but they looked eagerly for the first glimpse of the campfires
of Thomas. At last they saw the little pink dots in the darkness,
and then they pushed forward with new zeal, urging their weary
horses into a run.

When Captain Markham, Dick and Warner galloped into camp,
ahead of the others, a thickset strong figure walked forward to meet
them. They leaped from their horses and saluted.

"Well?" said General Thomas.

"The enemy is advancing upon us in full force, sir," replied
Captain Markham.

"You scouted thoroughly?"

"We saw their whole army upon the road."

"When do you think they could reach us?"

"About dawn, sir."

"Very good. We shall be ready. You and your men have done
well. Now, find food and rest. You will be awakened in time for the
battle."

Dick walked away with his friends. Troopers took their horses
and cared for them. The boy glanced back at the thickset, powerful
figure, standing by one of the fires and looking gravely into the
coals. More than ever the man with the strong, patient look inspired
confidence in him. He was sure now that they would win on the
morrow. Markham and Warner felt the same confidence.

"There's a lot in having a good general," said Warner, who had
also glanced back at the strong figure. "Do you remember, Dick,
what it was that Napoleon said about generals?"

"A general is everything, an army nothing or something like
that."

"Yes, that was it. Of course, he didn't mean it just exactly
as he said it. A general can't be one hundred per cent and an army
none. It was a figure of speech so to say, but I imagine that a
general is about forty per cent. If we had had such leadership at
Bull Run we'd have won."

Dick and Warner, worn out by their long ride, soon slept but
there was movement all around them during the late hours of the
night. Thomas with his cautious, measuring mind was rectifying his
lines in the wintry darkness. He occupied a crossing of the roads,
and he posted a strong battery of artillery to cover the Southern
approach. Around him were men from Kentucky, the mountains of
Tennessee, Ohio, Indiana, and Minnesota. The Minnesota troops were
sun-tanned men who had come more than a thousand miles from an
Indian-infested border to defend the Union.

All through the night Thomas worked. He directed men with
spades to throw up more intrenchments. He saw that the guns of the
battery were placed exactly right. He ordered that food should be
ready for all very early in the morning, and then, when nothing more
remained to be done, save to wait for the decree of battle, he sat
before his tent wrapped in a heavy military overcoat, silent and
watchful. Scouts had brought in additional news that the Southern
army was still marching steadily along the muddy roads, and that
Captain Markham's calculation of its arrival about dawn would
undoubtedly prove correct.

Dick awoke while it was yet dark, and throwing off the heavy
blankets stood up.

Although the dawn had not come, the night was now fairly light
and Dick could see a long distance over the camp which stretched to
left and right along a great front. Near him was the battery with
most of the men sleeping beside their guns, and not far away was the
tent. Although he could not see the general, he knew instinctively
that he was not asleep.

It was cold and singularly still, considering the presence of
so many thousands of men. He did not hear the sound of human voices
and there was no stamp of horses' feet. They, too, were weary and
resting. Then Dick was conscious of a tall, thin figure beside him.
Warner had awakened, too.

"Dick," he said, "it can't be more than an hour till dawn."

"Just about that I should say."

"And the scene, that is as far as we can see it, is most
peaceful."

Dick made no answer, but stood a long time listening. Then he
said:

"My ears are pretty good, George, and sound will carry very
far in this silence just before the dawn. I thought I heard a faint
sound like the clank of a cannon."

"I think I hear it, too," said Warner, "and here is the dawn
closer at hand than we thought. Look at those cold rays over there,
behind that hill in the east. They are the vanguard of the sun."

"So they are. And this is the vanguard of the Southern
army!"

He spoke the last words quickly and with excitement.

In front of them down the road they heard the crackle of a
dozen rifle shots. The Southern advance undoubtedly had come into
contact with the Union sentinels and skirmishers. After the first
shots there was a moment's breathless silence, and then came a
scattered and rapid fire, as if at least a hundred rifles were at
work.

Dick's pulse began to beat hard, and he strained his eyes
through the darkness, but he could not yet see the enemy. He saw
instead little jets of fire like red dots appearing on the horizon,
and then the sound of the rifles came again. Warner was with him
and both stood by the side of Major Hertford, ready to receive and
deliver his orders. Dick now heard besides the firing in front the
confused murmur and moving of the Union army.

Few of these troops had been in battle before--the same could
be said of the soldiers on the other side--and this attack in the
half-light troubled them. They wished to see the men who were going
to shoot at them, in order that they might have a fair target in
return. Fighting in the night was scarcely fair. One never knew
what to do. But Thomas, the future "Rock of Chickamauga," was
already showing himself a tower of strength. He reassured his
nervous troops, he borrowed Dick and Warner and sent them along the
line with messages from himself that they had nothing to do but
stand firm and the victory was theirs.

Meanwhile the line of red dots in front was lengthening. It
stretched farther to left and right than Dick could see, and was
rapidly coming nearer. Already the sentinels and skirmishers were
waging a sharp conflict, and the shouts of the combatants increased
in volume. Then the cold sun swung clear of the earth, and its
wintry beams lighted up both forest and open. The whole Southern
army appeared, advancing in masses, and Dick, who was now with Major
Hertford again, saw the pale rays falling on rifles and bayonets,
and the faces of his own countrymen as they marched upon the Union
camp.

"There's danger for our army! Lots of it!" said Warner, as he
watched the steady advance of the Southern brigades.

Dick remembered Bull Run, but his thoughts ran back to the
iron general who commanded now.

"Thomas will save us," he said.

The skirmishers on both sides were driven in. Their scattered
fire ceased, but a moment later the whole front of the Southern army
burst into flame. It seemed to Dick that one vast sheet of light
like a sword blade suddenly shot forward, and then a storm of lead,
bearing many messengers of death, beat upon the Northern army,
shattering its front lines and carrying confusion among its young
troops. But the officers and a few old regulars like Sergeant
Whitley steadied them and they returned the fire.

Major Hertford, Dick and Warner were all on foot, and their
own little band, already tried in battle, yielded not an inch. They
formed a core of resistance around which others rallied and Thomas
himself was passing along the line, giving heart to the lads fresh
from the farms.

But the Southern army fired again, and shouting the long
fierce rebel yell, charged with all its strength. Dick saw before
him a vast cloud of smoke, through which fire flashed and bullets
whistled. He heard men around him uttering short cries of pain, and
he saw others fall, mostly sinking forward on their faces. But
those who stood, held fast and loaded and fired until the barrels of
their rifles burned to the touch.

Dick felt many tremors at first, but soon the passion of
battle seized him. He carried no rifle, but holding his officer's
small sword in his hand he ran up and down the line crying to the
men to stand firm, that they would surely beat back the enemy. That
film of fire and smoke was yet before his eyes, but he saw through
it the faces of his countrymen still coming on. He heard to his
right the thudding of the great guns that Thomas had planted on a
low hill, but the rifle fire was like the beat of hail, a crackling
and hissing that never ceased.

The farm lads, their rifles loaded afresh, fired anew at the
enemy, almost in their faces, and the Southern line here reeled back
against so firm and deadly a front.

But an alarming report ran down the line that their left was
driven back, and it was true. The valiant Zollicoffer leading his
brigade in person, had rushed upon this portion of the Northern army
which was standing upon another low hill and struck it with great
violence. It was wavering and would give way soon. But Thomas,
showing the singular calm that always marked him in battle, noticed
the weak spot. The general was then near Major Hertford. He
quickly wrote a dispatch and beckoned to Dick:

"Here," he said, "jump on the horse that the sergeant is
holding for me, and bring up our reserve, the brigade under General
Carter. They are to meet the attack there on the hill, where our
troops are wavering!"

Dick, aflame with excitement, leaped into the saddle, and
while the roar of battle was still in his ears reached the brigade
of Carter, already marching toward the thick of the conflict. One
entire regiment, composed wholly of Kentuckians, was detached to
help the Indiana troops who were being driven fiercely by
Zollicoffer.

Dick rode at the head of the Kentuckians, but a bullet struck
his horse in the chest. The boy felt the animal shiver beneath him,
and he leaped clear just in time, the horse falling heavily and
lying quite still. But Dick alighted on his feet, and still
brandishing his sword, and shouting at the top of his voice, ran
on.

In an instant they reached the Indiana troops, who turned with
them, and the combined forces hurled themselves upon the enemy. The
Southerners, refusing to yield the ground they had gained, received
them, and there began a confused and terrible combat, shoulder to
shoulder and hand to hand. Elsewhere the battle continued, but here
it raged the fiercest. Both commanders knew that they were to win
or lose upon this hill, and they poured in fresh troops who swelled
the area of conflict and deepened its intensity.

Dick saw Warner by his side, but he did not know how he had
come there, and just beyond him the thick and powerful figure of
Sergeant Whitley showed through the hot haze of smoke. The back of
Warner's hand had been grazed by a bullet. He had not noticed it
himself, but the slow drip, drip of the blood held Dick for a moment
with a sort of hideous fascination. Then he broke his gaze
violently away and turned it upon the enemy, who were pouring upon
them in all their massed strength.

Thomas had sent the Kentuckians to the aid of the Indiana men
just in time. The hill was a vast bank of smoke and fire, filled
with whistling bullets and shouts of men fighting face to face.
Some one reeled and fell against Dick, and for a moment, he was in
horror lest it should be Warner, but a glance showed him that it was
a stranger. Then he rushed on again, filled with a mad excitement,
waving his small sword, and shouting to the men to charge.

From right to left the roar of battle came to his ears, but on
the hill where he stood the struggle was at its height. The lines
of Federals and Confederates, face to face at first, now became
mixed, but neither side gained. In the fiery struggle a Union
officer, Fry, saw Zollicoffer only a few feet away. Snatching out
his pistol he shot him dead. The Southerners seeing the fall of the
general who was so popular among them hesitated and then gave back.
Thomas, watching everything with keen and steady gaze, hurled an
Ohio regiment from the right flank upon the Southern center, causing
it to give way yet further under the shock.

"We win! We win!" shouted Dick in his ardor, as he saw the
Southern line yielding. But the victory was not yet achieved.
Crittenden, who was really Zollicoffer's superior in the command,
displayed the most heroic courage throughout the battle. He brought
up fresh troops to help his weakened center. He reformed his lines
and was about to restore the battle, but Thomas, silent and ever
watchful, now rushed in a brigade of Tennessee mountaineers, and as
they struck with all their weight, the new line of the South was
compelled to give way. Success seen and felt filled the veins of
the soldiers with fresh fire. Dick and the men about him saw the
whole Southern line crumble up before them. The triumphant Union
army rushed forward shouting, and the Confederates were forced to
give way at all points.

Dick and Warner, with the watchful sergeant near, were in the
very front of the advance. The two young aides carried away by
success and the fire of battle, waved their swords continually and
rushed at the enemy's lines.

Dick's face was covered with smoke, his lips were burnt, and
his throat was raw from so much shouting. But he was conscious only
of great elation. "This is not another Bull Run!" he cried to
Warner, and Warner cried back: "Not by a long shot!"

Thomas, still cool, watchful, and able to judge of results
amid all the thunder and confusion of battle, hurried every man into
the attack. He was showing upon this, his first independent field,
all the great qualities he was destined later to manifest so
brilliantly in some of the greatest battles of modern times.

The Southern lines were smashed completely by those heavy and
continuous blows. Driven hard on every side they now retreated
rapidly, and their triumphant enemies seized prisoners and
cannon.

The whole Confederate army continued its swift retreat until
it reached its intrenchments, where the officers rallied the men and
turned to face their enemy. But the cautious Thomas stopped. He
had no intention of losing his victory by an attack upon an
intrenched foe, and drew off for the present. His army encamped out
of range and began to attend to the wounded and bury the dead.

Dick, feeling the reaction after so much exertion and
excitement, sat down on a fallen tree trunk and drew long, panting
breaths. He saw Warner near and remembered the blood that had been
dripping from his hand.

"Do you know that you are wounded, George?" he said. "Look at
the back of your hand."

Warner glanced at it and noticed the red stripe. It had
ceased to bleed.

"Now, that's curious," he said. "I never felt it. My blood
and brain were both so hot that the flick of a bullet created no
sensation. I have figured it out, Dick, and I have concluded that
seventy per cent of our bravery in battle is excitement, leaving
twenty per cent to will and ten per cent to chance."

"I suppose your calculation is close enough."

"It's not close merely. It's exact."

Both sprang to their feet and saluted as Major Hertford
approached. He had escaped without harm and he saw with pleasure
that the lads were alive and well, except for Warner's slight
wound.

"You can rest now, boys," he said, "I won't need you for some
time. But I can tell you that I don't think General Thomas means to
quit. He will follow up his victory."

But Dick and Warner had been sure of that already. The army,
flushed with triumph, was eager to be led on, even to make a night
attack on the intrenchments of the enemy, but Thomas held them,
knowing that another brigade of Northern troops was marching to his
aid. The brigade came, but it was now dark and he would not risk a
night attack. But some of the guns were brought up and they sent a
dozen heavy cannon shot into the intrenchments of the enemy. There
was no reply and neither of the boys, although they strained ears,
could hear anything in the defeated camp.

"I shouldn't be surprised if we found them gone in the
morning," said Major Hertford to Dick. "But I think our general is
right in not making any attack upon their works. What do you say to
that, Sergeant Whitley? You've had a lot of experience."

Sergeant Whitley was standing beside them, also trying to
pierce the darkness with trained eyes, although he could not see the
Confederate intrenchments.

"If a sergeant may offer an opinion I agree with you fully,
sir," he said. "A night attack is always risky, an' most of all,
sir, when troops are new like ours, although they're as brave as
anybody. More'n likely if we was to rush on 'em our troops would be
shootin' into one another in the darkness."

"Good logic," said Major Hertford, "and as it is quite certain
that they are not in any condition to come out and attack us we'll
stand by and wait till morning. So the general orders."

They walked back toward the place where the victorious troops
were lighting the fires, out of the range of the cannon in the
Confederate intrenchments. They were exultant, but they were not
boasting unduly. Night, cold and dark, had shut down upon them and
was taking the heat out of their blood. Hundreds of men were at
work building fires, and Dick and Warner, with the permission of
Major Hertford, joined them.

Both boys felt that the work would be a relief. Wood was to
be had in abundance. The forest stretched on all sides of them in
almost unbroken miles, and the earth was littered with dead wood
fallen a year or years before. They merely kept away from the side
on which the Confederate intrenchments lay, and brought in the wood
in great quantities. A row of lights a half mile long sprang up,
giving forth heat and warmth. Then arose the cheerful sound of tin
and iron dishes and cups rattling against one another. A quarter of
an hour later they were eating a victorious supper, and a little
later most of them slept.

But in the night the Confederate troops abandoned their camp,
leaving in it ten cannon and fifteen hundred wagons and crossed the
river in boats, which they destroyed when they reached the other
side. Then, their defeat being so severe, and they but volunteers,
they scattered in the mountains to seek food and shelter for the
remainder of the winter.

This army of the South ceased to exist.