The Courier of the Ozarks

Edward Middleton had become major of his regiment. He was everywhere regarded as among the bravest and most reliable officers in Price's army. He was a bitter partisan, had the utmost contempt for everything Northern, but withal a noble and chivalric gentleman. He could never forgive Lawrence, whom he had regarded as a brother, for going into the Yankee army; yet after Lawrence had saved his life at the battle of Wilson Creek, and in so doing nearly lost his own, Edward had had a kinder feeling for him.

Randolph Hamilton was but little older than Lawrence. He was of a generous nature, fought for the South because he believed the South right, and not from any hatred toward the North. Before the war, he and Lawrence were the closest of friends, and now, although they were fighting on different sides, neither allowed that to interfere with their friendship. Randolph was now captain of his company, and idolized by his men.

Benton Shelley was of a different nature. Brave he was, but he had a haughty and cruel disposition, and believed himself to be made of finer clay than the soldiers under him. For this reason he was tyrannical, and was hated by his men as much as Randolph was loved. As for the Yankees, there were no terms too contemptuous for him to apply to them. Toward Lawrence he held undying hatred, and tried in every way to encompass his death. Toward his step-brother, Guilford Craig, he held the same hatred. He frequently boasted how, at the battle of Pea Ridge, he had slain his step-brother, and he always added: "And I'll get that Lawrence Middleton yet. See if I don't. I nearly got him at Wilson Creek, and will not fail the next time."

"It seems you did meet him again, Bent," said Randolph, with a sly twinkle in his eye; "but, like the fellow who caught the Tartar, the Tartar had him – not he the Tartar."

Benton turned white with rage. "Look here, Captain Hamilton," he exclaimed, furiously, "don't presume on our friendship too much, or I shall demand the satisfaction of a gentleman. You have already thrown that up to me several times. I have told you my horse was shot, and I was lying helpless on the ground, when that cowardly traitor attacked me, and would have murdered me if he had not been stopped by an officer more humane than he."

Major Middleton turned like a flash; his face was set and grim. "Captain Shelley," he said, in a low, even tone, but terrible in its earnestness, "I have no love for my cousin, as you well know; but he is no coward. He is a Middleton. As for his killing you in cold blood, that thought comes from your excitement of the moment and your chagrin at your overthrow. From your own account, he had every opportunity of killing you, if he had so wished."

"I thought I was among friends," said Benton, "but I see I am not, and will go."

"Hold on, gentlemen," commanded General Green, who was present; "I cannot have this – my best and bravest officers quarrelling, and threatening to shoot each other. You, Captain Hamilton, are to blame for taunting Captain Shelley for an unfortunate situation in which any of you may be placed some time. And you, Captain Shelley, are to blame for trying to mitigate your misfortune by charging your opponent with cowardice and cruelty. There is not a drop of coward's blood in a Middleton's body. There stands a noble example," and he pointed to Edward.

"I can also understand," he continued, "why Captain Shelley feels so bitter against Lawrence Middleton. He believes him to have been instrumental in leading his step-brother astray, and thus bringing a damning disgrace on his family."

"That's it!" cried Benton, eager to set himself right. "I can never forget, never forgive, the disgrace."

"That being the case," continued the General, "I trust that Captain Hamilton, even in jest, will never allude to the subject again, and that all of you will be as good friends as ever, eager only to sheathe your swords in the bosom of our enemy. That reminds me that I dropped in to tell you the season of inactivity is over."

"What!" they all cried, everything else forgotten. "Are we to fight at last?"

"It looks like it," answered Green. "You know Bragg is sweeping everything before him in Kentucky – will be in Louisville before a week. The point is to keep Grant from rushing any of his troops to aid Buell. The Yankee troops here must be held. The orders are to make it lively for Rosecrans. We are to move on Iuka tomorrow."

Then from those officers went up a cheer. They were to meet the foes of their country; no thought of the danger before them; no thought that before many hours some of them might be lying in bloody graves.

"Here's for old Kentucky!" cried one. "We are going to reinforce Bragg."

"Better say we are going to thrash Rosecrans at Corinth," chimed in another.

That night Price with his army marched straight for Iuka, some fifteen or twenty miles east of Corinth. The place was only held by a small detachment, which beat a hasty retreat, leaving a large quantity of military stores to the jubilant Confederates.

From Iuka Price could cross over into Tennessee, and pursue his way northward to join Bragg, or turn on Rosecrans at Corinth.

It was decided for him: Rosecrans no sooner learned that Price had captured Iuka than he set forth from Corinth to attack him.

Portions of the two armies met two miles from Iuka, a bloody battle was fought, the Federals being driven back a short distance, and losing a battery.

During the night Price beat a hasty retreat, leaving the battery he had taken, all his dead unburied, and many of his sick and wounded.

The Missouri brigade was not up in time to take part in this battle, and when they learned a retreat had been ordered, both officers and men were furious.

"I feel like breaking my sword!" exclaimed Major Middleton, and his jaws came together with a snap.

"Why did General Price do it?" cried Randolph Hamilton, tears of humiliation running down his face.

"You will know in time," replied Benton Shelley. He was on General Price's staff, and was the officer who had brought the orders to retreat.

The fact was, General Price knew if he did not retreat he would be soundly whipped the next day. Then, General Price had just received a communication from General Van Dorn that he was ready to join him, and, with the combined armies, make an attack on Corinth.

The news that they were to attack Corinth fired the army with enthusiasm, and eagerly did they go forward to what they thought was certain victory. The Missouri regiments marched with song and cheer, as if going to a festival. The time they had longed for had come; they were to wipe out the disgrace of Pea Ridge; they would show the rest of the army what Pop Price and his boys could do.

At noon on October third the battle opened, and now around the little village of Corinth, where in the spring it was thought the great battle of the war would be fought, was waged a most desperate conflict, lasting for two days. The hills trembled, and the very heavens seemed shattered with the thunder of artillery.

Thickets were swept as with a great jagged scythe by the leaden hail which swept through them. Nothing could withstand the fierce rush of the Confederate troops. The Federals were swept from their outer line of intrenchments.

With yells of victory, the Confederates rushed on. Before them was the second and stronger line of intrenchments. They were met with a storm of shot and shell. The carnage was awful, and the charging columns halted, staggered, and then began to reel back. Most of the officers of the Missouri regiments had fallen, killed or wounded. Both the colonel and lieutenant-colonel of the regiment to which Edward Middleton belonged had fallen.

Major Middleton spurred his horse in front of his men, and, waving his sword over his head, shouted: "Forward, men! Forward, for the honor of Missouri! I will lead you!"

The reeling column straightened, grew firm, and with a shout sprang forward.

Major Middleton's horse fell; but, sword in hand, he pressed forward, followed by his men. Nothing could stay them, and soon their shouts of victory were heard above the roar of the battle.

The line was taken, the Federals in full retreat for their last and strongest line of works, which ran around the edge of the little village.

Night had come, and the Confederates, flushed with victory, lay on the ground they had so bravely won – to complete, in the morning, as they supposed, the destruction of Rosecrans's army.

When morning came, the Confederates once more rushed to the conflict. Again did Major Middleton lead his regiment. The color-bearer went down, but the flag was seized by Randolph Hamilton, and held aloft. "Follow the colors!" he shouted, as he sprang forward.

The Federals shrank from the advancing line of steel, and fled in dismay.

As Randolph mounted the breastwork, a young Federal lieutenant, the last to leave the works, levelled his revolver on him, but as he did so a look of surprise came over his face, and he turned his weapon and shot a soldier who had sprung on the works by Randolph's side.

Randolph did not return the shot. The young lieutenant was Leon Laselle, the brother of Lola.

Everywhere along the front of Green's division the wild cheers of victory were ringing. Not only had they swept the Federal breastworks, but forty cannon had been captured. Oh, it was good! It was glorious! But it was no time to stop and rejoice. The Yankees must be completely crushed – Rosecrans's whole army captured; and into the village they followed the fleeing but not demoralized Federals.

Into the houses, and behind every garden fence and hedge, the retreating Federals gathered. Every house became a flaming fort, and into the advancing ranks of the Confederates was poured a storm of balls, while the loud-mouthed cannon swept away with an iron hail the front of the advancing foe.

The Confederates wavered, halted; then there sprang forward a line of blue-coated soldiers, and as a great wave bears on its crest everything before it, so did this line of blue bear back the Confederates. In vain did Edward Middleton struggle before it. He was as helpless as a log of wood borne onward by the surging tide.

Randolph Hamilton once more seized the standard of the regiment. "Let us die with it floating," he cried. As he cried, the hand of a Federal lieutenant reached out to grasp the flag, and then both went down, and Randolph Hamilton and Leon Laselle lay side by side, the blood stained flag between them.

On rolled the wave of blue, catching and flinging back hundreds of the fleeing Confederates.

The armies of Van Dorn and Price that had had no thought but victory, that had fought so bravely and won so much, now fled from the field in wild confusion, leaving behind them over a thousand of their dead, hundreds of their wounded, and nearly three thousand prisoners. They had fought as only brave men can fight – and lost.

Throughout the North the name of Rosecrans, before but little known, was on every tongue.10

It was the news of this battle that caused such excitement in St. Louis, for in it hundreds of Missourians had met Missourians, and as we have seen, the first news was that the Confederate regiments of Missouri had been annihilated. Excitement was at fever heat, and anxious hearts awaited authentic news. It came in a telegram from Leon Laselle, reading: "Am seriously but not dangerously wounded. Randolph Hamilton dangerously wounded, and captured. Edward Middleton safe."

Lawrence was at the Laselle home when the telegram came. Mr. Laselle was sick at the time and unable to go to his son, if he had wished. When the telegram was read Lola clasped her hands and cried, with tears streaming down her face, "Leon wounded! I must go to him."

"I am afraid that is hardly possible," said Lawrence. "I will see what can be done, but first let me take this telegram to my uncle and aunt. It will take a great load from their minds."

When the telegram was read to Mr. and Mrs. Middleton, they both dropped to their knees and thanked God their son was safe. Days afterwards, when the news came of his bravery, and how he had been promoted to the colonelcy of his regiment, they, in their pride, forgot the agony they had suffered.

As for Lawrence, he hastened back to Mr. Laselle's.

"I must go to Leon," Lola cried. "There is no one else to go."

Lawrence showed her how impossible it was for her to go. "I will see General Schofield," he said. "Perhaps I can manage to get permission to go."

"Oh! do, do," cried Lola, and the whole family echoed her wish.

"There is Randolph," said Lawrence. "The telegram says he is dangerously wounded."

"In my anxiety over Leon, I forgot Randolph," said Lola. "What a pity! His mother and Dorothy both in Europe, and Mr. Hamilton somewhere east. Why not – " she stopped, and added lamely, "I am so sorry for him."

"We are all sorry, Lola," replied Lawrence. "Randolph is a noble fellow, and believes he is doing his duty both to his God and his country in fighting as he does. You may rest assured I will do all I can for him."

Lawrence had no trouble in getting the requisite authority from General Schofield to visit his friend. "I shall not be ready to take the field yet for some days," said the General. "So take your time."

Lawrence went from St. Louis to Memphis by steamboat and from Memphis to Corinth by rail. Once the train was fired into by Confederate raiders. There were quite a number of soldiers on board and Lawrence, placing himself at their head, succeeded, after a brisk little fight, in driving the raiding party off. But the track had been torn up and there was a delay of several hours, a delay under which Lawrence chafed, for he was anxious to get to his friend.

At length Corinth was reached. All signs of the battle had been obliterated, except the shattered houses, the mangled forest and thickets and row upon row of new-made graves.

To his joy, Lawrence found Leon improving. He had not only been shot through the arm, the arm he had stretched forth to seize the flag, but had also received a scalp wound.

Lawrence would not have known him with his head all swathed up, if he had not been pointed out to him. The meeting between the two friends was a joyful one.

"How are the folks and how did they take my being wounded?" was Leon's first question.

And thus it is. The first thought of a soldier as he sinks dying or wounded on the battlefield is of home and the loved ones.

Lawrence told him and added, "Lola was crazy to come to you, but you know it could not be."

"I reckon there would be another one besides me glad to see Lola," said Leon. "Poor Randolph, he lies on the third cot, there. Don't go to him, he seems to be asleep, and he needs rest. The surgeons cut the ball from his thigh yesterday. It had lodged against the bone. They have hopes of his recovery now, if blood poisoning does not set in. He has been delirious most of the time, and what do you think? He is continually raving about Lola. Seems to be living over again the time he was pursued as a spy, and would have been captured if it had not been for her."

Somehow it gave Lawrence a little pang to hear this, then he cast the thought out as unworthy.

When Randolph awoke, Lawrence went to him, pressed his hand in sympathy and whispered that everything was all right, and not to talk. Randolph smiled and, closing his eyes, went to sleep again.

The doctor came and looked at him. "Friend of yours?" he asked of Lawrence.

Lawrence nodded.

"Mighty plucky fellow. Had a close call, but I think he will pull through. Fever's most gone," exclaimed the doctor as he felt Randolph's pulse and then hurried away.

Lawrence and Leon held a consultation that night, and it was determined that if they could get Randolph paroled they would take him back to St. Louis with them, for Leon had already been granted a furlough.

The parole was easily secured, but a week passed before they considered it safe to move Randolph. The journey back was safely made and Leon, in spite of his bandaged head and wounded arm, was nearly smothered with kisses.

Lawrence found that Mr. Hamilton had not yet returned; in fact, he had met with an accident, and it would be several days before he could travel. What was to be done with Randolph? That was the question.

"Bring him with me," said Leon. "I want someone to fight with while I am getting well, and fighting with tongues is not as dangerous as with guns."

"Where are you taking me? This is not home," exclaimed Randolph, as the ambulance stopped before the Laselle residence.

"No," replied Lawrence. "Your father has met with a slight accident, not severe, but enough to detain him for several days. So we have brought you to Mr. Laselle's. Leon wants you for company. You two can fight your battles over while you are convalescing."

"But – "

"Not a word. Just think of what a nurse you will have. I almost wish I was in your place."

Randolph smiled and made no more protestations.

Lawrence could hardly help envying Randolph, who had found a haven of rest for at least some weeks, while he must once more face the hardships and dangers of the tented field.

The orders came in a couple of days and Lawrence went to say good-bye to his friends.

He found Leon and Randolph had been placed in one room, and there they lay, Union and Confederate, side by side, as they had lain on the battlefield, but now no blood-stained flag lay between them.

Lawrence watched as Lola, with gentle hands, administered to Randolph's wants. He saw how his face lighted up as she came near, and – well, he didn't like it.

When it came time for him to go and Lola followed him to the door, he said in a tone of carelessness, "Lola, as you have not only Leon, but Randolph to look after now, I suppose you do not care to hear from me any more."

The girl looked at him in surprise and tears gathered in her eyes. "Lawrence, what do you mean?" she asked in a trembling voice. "Are you not my own, my true knight-errant?"

"There, Lola, I was only joking. Of course, I am your knight-errant," answered Lawrence hastily, "and my Lady of Beauty must not forget me. God bless you, Lola." He raised her hand to his lips and was gone.

Lola gazed after him with troubled eyes, and then a thought, a thought that had never entered her head before, came. The color in her cheeks came and went. "He couldn't have meant that," she murmured, as she looked at his retreating figure until it was out of sight. Then with a sigh she turned and went into the house.

CHAPTER XIII

PORTER CAPTURES PALMYRA

With the disastrous defeats and scattering of the guerrilla bands of Poindexter, Cobb and Porter, it looked as if Northeast Missouri was, at last, free from partisan warfare, but such did not prove to be the case. Porter had escaped, and was soon back in his old haunts, gathering together as many of his followers as possible.

Harry Semans reported this fact to McNeil, who had now been appointed general in the Missouri militia. That officer could hardly believe that Porter would be able to gather a force large enough to do much damage, but he bade Harry be watchful and report at the first signs of danger.

"Hist! Bruno, keep quiet!"

It was Harry Semans, who was once more lying in a thicket by the side of the road, and as usual the faithful Bruno was by his side. The dog was now showing that he scented danger.

Harry's method of scouting was peculiar. When in need of information he and Bruno generally scouted alone, and that during the night.

In the daytime he would lie concealed in some thicket, close to a road, his horse always picketed some distance from him. He would observe any men that passed along the road, the direction they were going, and thus be able to determine whether the guerrillas were gathering for a raid or not. If so, it was his duty to find their rendezvous, report with all possible speed, and bring a Federal force down upon them.

When he thought best, he had no scruples in passing himself off as a guerrilla. It was only in case of urgent necessity that he rode in the daytime. For one reason he did not wish the guerrillas to know he was always accompanied by a dog. In the night he could not be recognized, and he was never in fear of a surprise, for Bruno always gave warning.

To the guerrillas it was a matter of wonderment how the Federals so often found out their secret hiding places, and many a suspected Union man was accused of giving information, and suffered in consequence, when it was Harry who was the guilty party.

Feeling safe, McNeil had left only one small company in Palmyra to guard the place, and to protect the prisoners, of whom he had nearly a hundred. He was away looking after other posts in his territory.

The news of McNeil's absence and the small number of soldiers at Palmyra was borne to Porter and he determined to make a raid on the village, liberate the prisoners, and capture some of the Union citizens who had made themselves obnoxious to Porter and his gang.

The news was given out and the guerrillas were rallying at a given place in the western part of the county. It was this gathering of the guerrillas that Harry was now watching.

He quickly quieted the dog and the cause of his excitement was now apparent, for six men came riding past, all armed to the teeth.

"There is deviltry on foot, old fellow," whispered Harry to Bruno, "and it 's up to us to find out what it is. There's twenty of these villains ridden past since we've been hiding here.

"How I wish I could hear what they are saying," continued Harry. "I must, I will find out what's brewing."

Harry was in a place which he could not safely leave before night, so he waited impatiently for the coming darkness. As soon as he dared he made his way back to where he had left his horse, and cautiously led it to the road. He then mounted and rode in the direction the guerrillas had taken. Two or three times Bruno gave warning, and Harry quietly drew out by the side of the road and let men pass.

He had gone some two or three miles when he came to a main road leading to Palmyra. Bruno showed unusual excitement, and Harry stopped and listened intently. From up the road there came the sound of the trampling of horses, as if a large body of cavalry was coming.

"Quick, Bruno, we must get out of this," exclaimed Harry, and wheeling his horse he rode back a short distance. Then he rode into a clump of bushes where he dismounted and tied the horse. "I dare not leave you too near the road when that cavalry passes, you might give me away," he said, patting his horse's neck. "Bruno, you stay here."

Back on the run went Harry. Climbing a fence he quickly made his way to the road over which the cavalry must pass. Here a fence ran close to the road and the corners were overgrown with weeds and brush, making a safe hiding place.

He was none too soon. Six men came riding by. "An advance guard," muttered Harry.

In a short time the head of the column appeared, and in front rode two men. As they came abreast of Harry he heard one of them say, "What time do you expect to attack Palmyra, Colonel?"

"Just at daybreak." It was the voice of Colonel Porter that answered.

Harry breathed hard. It was Palmyra that was to be attacked, and he knew the weakness of the garrison. He calculated as closely as he could the number that passed, and concluded there must be about four hundred in the band.

What was he to do? The whole force was squarely between him and Palmyra. He could never get through that body of men. He must ride around. But would he have time? Could he find his way in the darkness? He could try.

Harry waited until the last man had passed, then going back he mounted his horse and followed the band. So close was he after them that three or four stragglers overtook him, and taking him for one of their number, told him to hurry up or he would be too late for the fun.

"My hoss is plumb tired out," was Harry's answer, "but I reckon I will git thar in time."

After riding three or four miles Harry came to a road that he believed might enable him to get around Porter's force, and by hard riding get to Palmyra first and give warning. Taking the road he put his horse to a fast gallop. Two or three times he was hailed as he passed houses, but he dashed on regardless of the fact that a bullet might be sent after him.