A SMART SKIRMISH IN THE ROAD
The Confederate troopers set up a yell loud and fierce enough to
intimidate all the old ladies in the State if they could have heard it;
but the Riverlawn Cavalry had heard it before, and its effect was to
kindle the wrath of the members of the platoon.
"Unsling your carbines, Life! Unsling your carbines, Fronklyn!" shouted
Deck, as the flanking parties dashed into the two fields.
The men had fought hand to hand with the Texan Rangers; and they were
roused to the highest pitch of enthusiasm when they found themselves
again in front of a regular force of troopers, instead of Home Guards
or guerillas. With their sabres in hand they rushed upon the foe with
all the speed to which they could spur their horses. The men were
fresh; for they had fought no engagement that day, and their work had
been easier than the regular marching.
On the other hand, the enemy had perhaps fought with the first platoon,
and had been running their horses till the animals were nearly
exhausted. But they received the charge like brave men, and stood up to
the work. Deck had advanced on the right of his men for the reason that
the officer in command of the enemy was on the left of his troopers;
for he desired to meet him. He had drawn his sabre; and possibly the
remembrance of his meeting on the field with the lieutenant of the
Texan Rangers had something to do with his choice of a position.
The squads in charge of Life and Fronklyn had each put in a volley from
their carbines as soon as they were abreast of the Confederates, where
they could fire diagonally at the enemy so as not to imperil their
friends; and two of them had dropped out of their saddles, and
doubtless others were wounded. Deck shouted words of encouragement to
his soldiers, and almost instantly the conflict became furious. The
Confederates fought like demons, and two of the loyal force were seen
to drop from their saddles by the men on the flanks.
But the firing ceased as soon as both parties were mingled in the
fight; for the two sergeants feared that their bullets might hit the
wrong men. At this point the Confederate commander rushed upon the
young lieutenant, who was ready for him, though he had not opened the
duel. Both of them were skilled swordsmen, and for a minute at least
they parried each other's cuts and thrusts. Life realized that his
_protégé_, as he regarded him, was in imminent peril; for his
antagonist was a heavier and taller man, and the longer reach of his
right arm was in his favor.
Deck was hard pressed, and neither officer could even glance at his
men, lest he should be caught off his guard. But Deck was still
self-possessed, and perhaps the excellent advice of his father saved
his life. Life Knox was not afraid of anything, but he trembled for the
safety of his lieutenant. He sought a position where he could put a
bullet through the brain of the brave Confederate, though he felt that
it would be mean to do so. Fortunately for him the sergeant could find
no such position.
Ceph, the name of Deck's noble steed, which had been abbreviated from
Bucephalus, seemed to Life, whose attention was fixed upon his officer,
restive and uneasy: but his rider did not bring him into a leaping
posture, as he had done on a former occasion, and had been charged by
his superiors with reckless daring; but the charger suddenly stood up
on his hind feet, as though he intended to attempt the leap over the
Confederate officer's horse on his own responsibility.
But the other steed was too tall for him, and his rider reined him in.
At the moment when he was elevated above the head of his opponent, Deck
seized his opportunity to deliver a blow upon the head of his foe with
his sabre. It struck him on the side of the head, above the ear,
cleaving his skull, and he dropped from his horse like a lump of lead.
Life was happily relieved at the result of this furious conflict.
He had not been idle during the affair; for he had sent two of his men
to remove the fence at the side of the road, and Fronklyn had done the
same on the other side. The moment the enemy's brave leader had fallen
from his horse, the sergeant ordered his men into the road, leading the
way himself, and the other sergeant on the left had followed his
example.
"Squad--attention!" shouted the orderly sergeant, after he had formed
the troopers in two ranks. "Forward--march!"
He led the charge himself; and they delivered a volley of blows and
thrusts, as occasion served them, which ended the strife in less than
another moment. Several of the Confederates cried "Quarter!" and not
another blow was struck after the word was heard.
"Who is in command of this company now?" asked Deck, as he and his men
moved out of the tangle to the sides of the road.
"Leftenant Logan," replied a wounded trooper who had a sabre-cut on the
side of his face which was bleeding profusely.
"The fall of Captain Letcher leaves me in command," said this officer,
approaching the young lieutenant.
"Do you surrender, Lieutenant Logan?" asked Deck, as he surveyed the
fine form and handsome face of the officer, who appeared to be not more
than a year or two older than the victor.
"I have no alternative; we are outnumbered, and surrounded by your
force," replied the Confederate lieutenant solemnly and sadly.
"I sympathize with you, Lieutenant, though I was compelled to do my
duty," replied Deck; and even while he gloried in the success of his
command, he was sincerely sorry for the misfortune of the officer, whom
he had seen in the road fighting bravely for the cause in this
particular field, which was lost from the beginning. "But it is no
disgrace or dishonor to you or your brave soldiers to be beaten by
double your number."
"I thank you, Lieutenant; and I only regret that we are obliged to be
enemies," returned the officer very courteously. "Am I at liberty to
attend to my wounded now?"
"Certainly, sir; and I hope your loss is not so great as it appears to
be at this moment," answered Deck.
After an action as hotly contested as this skirmish had been, it was
surprising how few had been killed outright. Only two of the Riverlawns
had fallen never to rise again; but six of the twenty-two Confederates
who had gone into the action were past human aid. Four of the blue, and
nine of gray, had been disabled by wounds more or less severe, while
hardly a single man on either side had escaped without being slightly
wounded.
"Have you a surgeon in your detachment, Lieutenant Logan?"
"I have not. He was left with the other platoon near Breedings; but I
hope you have one."
"I have not. Ours is with the main body," replied Deck; and the
Confederate officer returned to his men.
"Who are the killed in our platoon, Life?" said Deck, when the sergeant
came to the lieutenant for further orders.
"I don't like to say so, Leftenant; but your cousin, Orly Lyon, is one
of them."
"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Deck. "I am sorry he has finished his campaign
so soon; but I am glad he did not die among the enemies of the Union."
"But he fought like a hero in the action, for I was near him when he
fell under the sabre of the lieutenant yonder," added Sergeant Sluder.
"Who was the other man killed, Life?" asked Deck.
"Barron, another of the new recruits."
"I am sorry to lose him, for he was a very promising soldier, though he
had not been sufficiently drilled. Bury the dead in the field on the
right," said Deck as he started for the baggage-wagons, where the
wounded had been carried.
Life had detailed a burial party, and Logan had done the same for the
men he had lost. Shovels and picks had been supplied to both from one
of the wagons. Having attended to this duty, the orderly sergeant was
sent to the field to ascertain the condition of the prisoners in charge
of Corporal Tilford. They still sat upon their horses, with the right
hand made fast at the crupper-strap, and doubtless were anxiously
awaiting the result of the skirmish in the road.
"How goes it, Sergeant Knox?" asked Captain Coonly when Life came
within speaking distance of him.
"All right," replied the big Kentuckian.
"Haven't the regulars of the Confederate army licked you?"
"Not much; but they have been licked out of their boots, with the third
part of them killed or badly wounded. You have no show for gittin' out
of this scrape yet."
Tilford reported that the prisoners had not made any trouble; for they
all declared that the Riverlawns would be beaten, and they were waiting
to be set at liberty. The sentinels over them guarded them very
closely, and afforded them no opportunity to make a demonstration, even
if they had been disposed to do so; for the soldiers with loaded
carbines in their hands, and with orders to shoot any one who did not
obey orders, or who attempted to escape, was a fact patent to them all.
Life was satisfied with his inspection, and hastened back to the
wagons.
When he reached the road, he met two well-dressed gentlemen coming out
of the field on the left, from the direction of Colonel Halliburn's
house. Both of them were mounted, and were provided with saddle-bags.
He was a native of Kentucky, and he promptly recognized them as
doctors.
"Mornin', gentlemen," said he, riding towards them. "I reckon you uns
be doctors?"
"You are not far from right, soldier," replied the elder of the two.
"Be you Secesh or Union?" demanded Life, as though he had the right to
put the question.
"Divide the question, and each can answer for himself," replied the one
who had spoken before. "I am opposed to making Kentucky the
battleground of this war; and if I fought on either side, it would be
with the Confederates."
"Be you of the same mind?" asked Life, turning to the other.
"I am sorry to differ from my friend, Dr. McNairy; but I am a Union
man," answered the younger doctor, though he appeared to be at least
forty years old. "But what has happened here?" he continued, surveying
the surroundings, especially the work of the burial parties.
"There's been a bit of a scrimmage between your friends here and them
as runs with t'other doctor; but you are both wanted right now,"
replied Life.
At this moment Mr. Milton arrived at the spot, and had apparently
recognized the two gentlemen as they rode across the field. He saluted
them both, calling them by name.
"I've told these doctors what we want of them," added the sergeant.
"But what about this battle, Mr. Milton?" inquired Dr. McNairy, the
elder one, who appeared to be about sixty years old.
Milton gave a very brief account of the action, and mentioned that Mr.
Halliburn's mansion had been ransacked by the prisoners whom he pointed
out in the field.
"Why didn't you hang them?" demanded Dr. Barlow, the young doctor.
"The military officer in command of the detachment here managed the
business, and I had nothing to do with the matter; though I would have
strung up Coonly if I had had my way, for hanging would do him good.
But the lieutenant said that one outrage did not mend another," replied
Milton impatiently; for he was anxious to have the wounded cared for.
"The lieutenant is a sensible man," added Dr. McNairy.
"Now, Dr. Barlow, your coming is most opportune; and I hope you will
attend to the wounded of the Union force, and that Dr. McNairy will do
the same for the Confederates," added Milton.
"It is a mere accident that we happen to be here, for we have been over
to perform an operation on the wife of General Macklin; but I am glad
to be able to serve the Union wounded, and I am quite willing to do the
same for the Confederates."
"I will take care of the Confederates," added Dr. McNairy.
"Now, Sergeant Knox, if you will conduct Dr. McNairy to the
Confederates, I will take Dr. Barlow to the Union wounded."
"I'll do that; but tell the leftenant there is a cavalry force comin'
down the road, and I reckon it's the first platoon of our company."
Both of them departed on their missions, accompanied by the doctors.