CHAPTER XXI. ARMY SCOUTING—REFUGEES AND THEIR SUFFERINGS.
For some time there had been rumors that General Fremont was about to be removed from the command of the Western Department. It was said that the authorities at Washington were greatly dissatisfied with the way he had managed affairs, and thought he gave more attention to making a grand display than in pushing operations against the enemy. Rumors of the impending change grew more and more numerous, and finally, on the second of November, General Fremont was officially notified of his removal from command and the appointment of General Hunter in his place.
Then on the third came the report that the enemy was in force at Wilson's Creek, and the plan of battle was formed. But the arrival of General Hunter at midnight caused the order for the troops to march at daybreak to be countermanded, and so the army did not move out to fight, greatly to the disappointment of our young friends.
It was fortunate for Fremont's reputation that the army did not make the proposed march, as the fact would have been revealed, which was discovered next day by a reconnoitering party which General Hunter sent out, that there was not a rebel camped on the old battleground or any where near it. A scouting party of about fifty men had been in the neighborhood, but they did not remain an hour; they had simply satisfied themselves that the Union army was still in Springfield, and then returned to their army at Cassville.
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“How could General Fremont have been so deceived?” was the very natural inquiry of Jack when it became known exactly how little foundation there was for the report of the near presence of the enemy.
“He was deceived by his scouts, I presume,” said Harry. “Suppose we ask one of our friends, who 'll know more about it.”
So they referred the matter to one of the soldiers attached to the commissary department, and the latter explained as follows:
“You understand,” said he, “that a general must depend a good deal on what his scouts tell him, and to avoid being deceived by them he is compelled to use a great deal of judgment. There are three classes of scouts: those who are really brave, cool and truthful; those who intend to be honest, but are timid and credulous, and lastly those who are born liars and boasters. The first are not always to be had, and at best are scarce, and so a general's scouting force is largely made up of the second and third classes. The second class get their information from the frightened inhabitants, and the fifty or so that composed the scouting party of rebels which came as far as 'Wilson's Creek were easily magnified into five or ten thousand; the imagination and fears of the scouts doubled the numbers given by the inhabitants, and thus the fictitious army was created. As for the liars and boasters, they are always, if their stories could be believed, doing prodigies of valor and whipping ten or twenty times their number of the enemy.
“What they principally do is to scare the people through whose country they ride, and many of them are not above plundering after a fashion no better than downright robbery. Generally they are in no hurry to meet the enemy face to face, but confine their scouting to places that are entirely safe.”
The soldier knew what he was talking about. Among Fremont's followers were several men of this sort with the rank of captain or lieutenant, and several who were unattached to any command and had an air of mystery about them. One of them used to ride out of camp about sunset as though bent on an important mission. He would return in the morning with a thrilling story of a night's ride, in which he had several times been fired upon by rebel scouting parties, and had used his revolver with such effect as to leave five or perhaps ten of his enemies dead upon the ground.
The fact was he went only a mile or two, and there spent the night at a farmhouse, having previously informed himself as to the entire safety of the place.
Another so-called scout was a forager whose equal is rarely to be seen. Whenever the army went into camp he would take half-a-dozen companions and start on a foraging expedition, from which he returned with a varied assortment of things, most of which were utterly unsuited to the uses of an army in the field and had to be left behind. One day he brought back a wagon drawn by two oxen and two cows, and with a horse attached behind it. Inside the wagon he had a pair of bull-terrier pups about three months old, a hoopskirt, and other articles of the feminine wardrobe, a baby's cradle and also a grain-reaping one, a rocking-chair, some battered railway-spikes, three door-mats and a side-saddle. Another time he returned with a family carriage drawn by a horse and a mule, and containing a litter of young kittens without the mother-cat, a bird-cage with a frightened canary in it, an empty parrot-cage, several bound volumes of sermons by celebrated English divines, and a box of garden-seeds.
This same scout got into trouble afterwards in a queer sort of a way. While on a foraging tour at one time he secured a lot of ready-made clothing, which he found in a trunk where some salt belonging to the rebel authorities had been stored. The quartermaster refused to receive the trunk and contents, and so the captain carried it to St. Louis and took it to the hotel where he temporarily stopped.
It so happened that some detectives were hunting for a suspected thief, who was said to be stopping at the hotel. They got into the captain's room by mistake and searched his trunk while he was absent; they did not find the articles they sought but they did find thirteen coats of different sizes, without any waistcoats or trousers to match. This was considered such a remarkable wardrobe for a gentleman to carry, that they did not hesitate to arrest him on general principles. He was locked up over night and did not succeed in obtaining his liberty until the quartermaster could be found to show that the goods were not stolen, but were simply the spoils of war.
Immediately after his removal, General Fremont, who had been in command just one hundred days, returned with his staff to St. Louis, and the army was ordered back to the line of the railway. On the ninth of November it evacuated Springfield, which was soon after occupied by General Price, and the second campaign of the Southwest was over. General Hunter remained only fifteen days in command and was succeeded by General Halleck, who proceeded to undo pretty nearly everything that Fremont had established.
Late in November Jack and Harry found themselves once more in Rolla, where a part of the army of the Southwest went into winter quarters. The rebels were content to remain in Springfield, though they sent scouting and foraging parties at irregular intervals to scour the country between those two points and gather whatever supplies could be obtained. The commander at Rolla also sent out similar expeditions, which were frequently accompanied by our young friends, and thus each army was fairly well informed as to what the other was doing.
The retirement of the Union forces gave the rebels great encouragement, and they pushed their recruiting through the interior country with great activity. They threatened to capture St. Louis, at least in words, and so loud were their promises that many of their sympathizers believed them.
During January, 1862, the camp at Rolla was increased by the arrival of troops from Illinois, Iowa and Kansas, and it was evident that the spring was to open with another campaign. General Samuel R. Curtis arrived and took command, transportation was cut down as much as possible, stores were accumulated and sent forward as far as the Gasconade river, a cavalry division under General Carr was pushed forward, and by degrees the country was occupied to within fifty miles of Springfield, where Price's army was known to be in force. It was ascertained that McCulloch's army had gone into a winter camp at Cross Hollows, in Arkansas, and would probably move north in the spring to join Price, or in case of a Union advance would wait where it was until Price could fall back to that position.
Among the regiments that came to Rolla was the Ninth Iowa, which contained several officers and many men of the First Iowa, which had been mustered out of service after its return from Wilson's Creek, its time having expired. Its colonel, William Vandever, was assigned to the command of a brigade, so that the control of the regiment fell to its lieutenant-colonel, F. J. Herron, who had fought at Wilson's Creek as a captain in the First Iowa.
Jack and Harry were overjoyed to see so many of their old acquaintances, and at the request of Colonel Vandever the two youths were turned over to his care. They had made such a good record in their scouting services during their stay at Rolla, that Colonel Vandever, whom we will now call general, as he was shortly afterward promoted to that rank, decided to make use of them as scouts and orderlies whenever occasion offered. They were allowed to retain their horses, of which they had taken excellent care. The animals showed much attachment to their young masters, and evidently were quite reconciled to serving under the Union flag instead of the rebel one, beneath which they were captured.
Orders to advance were impatiently waited, and at last they came. Early in February the army of General Curtis moved out of Rolla with drums beating and trumpets sounding, and every indication of a determination to push on to victory. Sixteen thousand men, in the proper proportions of infantry, artillery and cavalry, composed the force which was to carry the flag across the borders of Missouri and into the rebellious state of Arkansas.
But before we follow the army of the Southwest and make note of its fortunes, let us briefly turn our gaze elsewhere.
CHAPTER XXII. A GENERAL ADVANCE—A SCOUTING PARTY AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
Careful students of the war did not fail to see that there was a systematic advance along the whole line from Virginia to Missouri during the early part of February, 1862. During the winter work on the gun-boat fleet had been vigorously pushed and many steamboats purchased or hired as transports. As fast as the ironclads were ready to move they were sent to Cairo, Illinois where the transports were assembled and vast amounts of stores had been accumulated. General Grant was in command at Cairo, and that aqueous town was a vast encampment. At the same time the army at Rolla had been strengthened, as we have already seen, and the movement of each force was practically simultaneous.
Nor was this all. From Washington the army moved into Virginia, and the checkered campaign of 1862 began. Then a fleet and an army went down the Atlantic coast and captured New-Berne, North Carolina, and farther down the coast there was an aggressive move against Charleston. Then at the mouth of the Mississippi a fleet of war ships appeared, backed by a fleet of transports carrying a land force ready to occupy and hold whatever the fleet secured. In Kentucky the Army of the Ohio occupied Bowling Green, and prepared to move upon Nashville.
The first success along the whole line of attack was when on the sixth of February the fleet under Admiral Foote bombarded Fort Henry and compelled its surrender. Then followed the attack on Fort Donelson, when General Grant “moved immediately upon the works” of General Buckner and took him a prisoner, together with all those of his garrison that could not escape. The whole North was in a blaze of excitement as the news was published in the papers, which appeared in the form of “Extras,” with a great many lines of heading to a very few lines of news. Such a sensation had not happened since the battle of Bull Run, in the previous year—and, unlike that of Bull Run, the story was one of victory and not of disaster.
The effect of the news in a city like St. Louis, whose population was divided in sentiment, was a curious study to the outsider. A man's sympathies could be known half a block away by the expression of his face and the air with which he greeted his friends. If he was for the Union his head was high in the air and his countenance showed him to be “smiling all over;” but if he sympathized with the rebellion, his steps were sad and slow and his head was downcast, as though he had lost a ten cent piece or a diamond ring, and was on the lookout to find it. There was no occasion to ask a man how he felt; the subject was too momentous to permit him to conceal his thoughts.
When the newsboys appeared with the extras they were eagerly patronized by the Union men and as eagerly repelled by the Secessionists. One boy had the temerity to enter the store of a noted Secessionist and shout in stentorian tones, “'Ere's yer extra; all about the capture of Fort Donelson!”
That boy soon had reason to believe that his presence was not desired there and his wares were unwelcome. He sold no papers in that store, and moreover he was ejected from it a moment after entering on the toe of a number ten boot. His ejectment was no trifling matter as it carried him quite to the edge of the sidewalk. He got up again, as though nothing had happened, and went on with his business as usual.
It is sad to record that there was a great deal of drinking in St. Louis over the result of Grant's movement against Donelson. The Union men drank in joy and congratulation, while the Secessionists did likewise to drown their sorrow. In Chicago and other Northern cities the drinking was more one-sided than in St. Louis, but the average to each inhabitant was not greater.
It is said that on some of the dead-walls of Chicago the day of the fall of Donelson a placard was posted to the effect that every man found sober at nine o'clock in the evening would be arrested for disloyalty. History does not record that there were any arrests in Chicago that day for disloyalty. Whether there was anybody around at that hour capable of making arrests is also without record.
Having thus taken a general survey of the field, we will return to Jack and Harry, whom we left with the Army of the Southwest.
The army moved, as before stated, and encountered no opposition as it advanced beyond the Gasconade river and occupied the town of Lebanon, sixty-five miles from Rolla. Harry called Jack's attention to the desolation that seemed to prevail along the route, compared with what the road was when they first saw it on the retreat from Wilson's Creek. Many houses had been burned, and many of those that escaped the torch were without occupants. In every instance where inquiry was made it was found that the burned or deserted house had been the property of a Union citizen who had been driven away by his rebel neighbors or by scouting parties from Price's army.
The few people that remained were almost destitute of food, and it was next to impossible to obtain feed for horses. The country had suffered terribly from the ravages of war, and was destined to suffer still further before the war ended. As long as the war lasted it was infested by roving bands of guerrillas, although the regular armies of the Confederacy had been forced much farther to the south. At first the Secessionists encouraged the presence of these guerrillas, but after a time they found their exactions so great that they would gladly have rid themselves of their so-called “friends.”
The roads were bad and the march was slow, but in spite of the bad roads and the wintry weather the army pushed forward resolutely. Jack and Harry found themselves covered with mud at the end of every day's march, and as they were frequently sent with scouting parties away from the road, their horses as well as themselves were pretty well used up when night arrived; but they came out as lively as ever the next morning, and the horses seemed to echo the words of their young masters, that they were having a good time.
On one of their scouting expeditions they stopped at a house whose owner boasted that he had built it himself and lived in it for seventeen years, and though it wasn't equal to some of the fine houses in Springfield or Lebanon, it was as good as he wanted. It was built of logs, like the ordinary frontier dwelling, and consisted of a single room, where the family of six persons lived, ate and slept. It had a door but no window, and in order to have light in the daytime it was necessary to keep the door open, no matter how cold the weather might be. Near the house was a smaller one of the same sort, and this was occupied by three negroes, the slaves of the owner of the place.
Harry found on inquiry that the man had bought these slaves from the money he had saved by selling the produce of his farm, preferring to invest in this kind of property rather than build a more comfortable house, with glass windows and other luxuries. One of the slaves was cook and housemaid, the second was the family nurse, and the third, a man about fifty years old, attended to the stable and out-door work in general. The master worked in the field with his colored property, but he said that when he had “two more niggers” he would have all his time taken up looking after them. Naturally he was in sympathy with the rebellion, and did not believe in the Yankees and Dutch coming along and setting the slaves free.
The black man watched for a chance to speak to one of the boys, and after a little maneuvering he managed to do so without being seen by his master.
“Ef you Linkum folks wants to find some rebs,” said the darkey to Harry, with a grin, “I knows whar you 'll find'em.”
“Where's that?”
“You jest go down dis yere road about a mile and you 'll find some of'em with a wagon load o' pork dey's takin' to Price's army.”
“How many rebs are there with the wagon?”
“Dere's six on'em—t'ree is on horses and t'ree in der wagon. Dey's been gettin' dat pork round yar, and hain't been gone more'n half an hour. I knows dey's going ter stop at der creek to fix one of de wheels, and you 'll find'em dar. Don't let on wher yer found'em out.”
“Of course not,” was the reply. “We 'll keep you all safe. Now clear out, and don't look at us to see which way we go.”
There were six of them in the scouting party, and they were entirely able to cope with the escort of the wagon. Harry slipped to the side of the sergeant in command and said they'd better be off, and he would then tell him why.
The sergeant then said to his men that it was time to be getting back, and gave the order for mounting. At the end of the little lane where the house stood they stopped for consultation, Harry telling what he had learned, and suggesting, that in order to divert suspicion, they had best start the other way and then suddenly turn about as though a new idea had occurred to them.
The sergeant acted under Harry's suggestion. The party went half-a-dozen rods one way and then turned about and cantered slowly down the road in the direction indicated by the negro.
“Steady, now, boys,” said the sergeant. “Don't pump your horses, but keep them fresh for a dash when we want to make it.”
So they went gently along, Harry keeping a little in advance to watch out for the wagon of which they were in search. The road rose and fell over the undulations of the ground, and when they had gone about a mile it was evident that they were coming to a depression, which was probably the bed of the creek.
Harry hugged the trees at the side of the road, so as to screen himself from sight. His horse pricked his ears and evidently scented the presence of other animals of his race.
A few more steps in advance and the wagon was in sight. It was standing close to the creek, and the men were busy adjusting one of the wheels, the three horsemen having dismounted and tied their steeds to some trees a dozen yards away.
The sergeant gave the order to advance at a walk, and if possible get between the men and their horses before the presence of an enemy was discovered. As soon as they were seen they would go in with a dash.
They were not able to carry out the plan completely, but for all practical purposes it succeeded. When the first of the rebel party saw the advancing Federals they had not time to secure their horses. The sergeant gave the order for an advance, and in the squad dashed, in fine style.
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The sergeant had told Jack to get hold of the saddle-horses the first thing, and he did so. The rest of the party surrounded the wagon. The rebels showed fight, but, taken at a disadvantage and with the carbines of the cavalrymen aimed at them, they surrendered before any blood had been spilt, but not without an exchange of shots, of which Harry received one through the sleeve of his coat.
The prisoners were secured and marched back in the direction of the road where the army was on its march. The wheel was speedily adjusted, and then Harry mounted the box of the wagon and soon made the four mules that comprised its team understand their duty. The captured horses were led behind the wagon along with Harry's horse. Without further adventure the party reached the camp, and the pork intended for Price's army found its way down the throats of General Vandever's soldiers.
CHAPTER XXIII. IN THE CAMP OF THE REBELS—CAPTURED LETTERS AND THEIR CONTENTS.
It was impossible to prevent news of the advance of the Union forces being carried to General Price at Springfield. That astute commander knew that he was in no condition to cope with an army of sixteen thousand men, and so he wisely withdrew when certain that he would have to fight if he remained. He left in haste and did not take time to pack up all his correspondence, of which a considerable portion fell into the hands of the invaders.
General Curtis had hoped to surround Price in Springfield and prevent his retreat; he did surround the town on two of its four sides, but left the other two wide open, and consequently Price was able to march serenely and leisurely down the road in the direction of the Arkansas line.
General Sigel was sent along a parallel road in the hope of heading off Price, but the latter got wind of the movement and accelerated his own speed so that heading off was out of the question. Then, too, his rear was rather closely followed by General Curtis's cavalry, so that the rear-guard pressed against the column in front of it and urged the retreat. General Sigel's officers afterwards complained that they were foiled in their heading-off attempt by the vigorous pursuit of the cavalry that led the main column.
Jack and Harry were with a scouting party that visited the deserted camp of the rebels close to the town of Springfield, and were much interested in studying the buildings which had been erected for the use of the troops. They consisted of log and board structures, and were sufficiently numerous and extensive to accommodate ten thousand men, in the way troops are lodged in barracks, without any overcrowding. The log-houses were well chinked with mud and clay, and the board ones were well built and comfortable; both kinds of buildings had floorings of boards, and at one end of every house there was a chimney and a fireplace.
“In some of the camps,” said Jack afterwards, in describing the place to a friend, “the buildings seemed to have been dropped down hap-hazard, without any effort at regularity, while in other camps they were laid out into streets and lanes. Some of the streets had signs at the corners, and of course the names were sure to be those of the Confederate generals. The bunks were arranged in tiers, sometimes four or five in a tier; some of the roofs of the buildings were covered with rawhide, and we saw several chairs and sofas seated with the same material.
“We thought by the looks of the place that they must have left in a hurry. There was a dead pig lying on the ground with the knife still sticking in his throat, and close by was a sheep hanging on a peg in the side of a house, with its skin about half taken off. Dough was fresh in the pans, and there were cooking utensils in considerable number, many of them containing food wholly or partially cooked. They took away their blankets, hardly one having been left behind. The sick men who remained in camp said that there was a very short supply of blankets, and they were sure the army would suffer greatly for want of proper clothing and covering.
“I'm certain they left in a great hurry,” continued Jack, “or I would n't have this.”
As he spoke he drew from his pocket a gold watch, which he had found in a bunk in one of the houses, evidently a house where the officers of a regiment were lodged. It was a pleasing souvenir of the visit to the camp, and Jack said he hoped to carry it home to show to his friends in Iowa.
“And what did you find, Harry?” said one of the listeners, turning to the other of our young friends.
“There were no gold watches, or even a silver one, in any bunk that I examined; but I found this, which was quite likely a treasured possession of its former owner as much as was the watch to the man who left it behind for Jack to pick up. But it would n't sell for as much; in fact, I don't think it would bring any price at all in the market, as it's only a bundle of love-letters.”
Then he read some of the letters aloud, to the great amusement of the entire party. It is a fact worthy of record that anybody's love-letters are amusing, and generally silly, to all except the one person for whom they are intended and the other person who writes them.
The love element was not stronger than the devotion of the fair writers to the cause of the South. One of them urged her lover to stay with the army and fight till the last slave-stealing Yankee was put out of existence and the triumph of the Confederacy was assured. “And you won't have long to stay,” she added, “as we hear the northern people are starving, and all of them are fast getting sick of the war. They won't be able to hire any more Dutchmen to fight for them, and when they can't hire Dutchmen the war will stop and the South will be independent.
“I know I can trust you when you get among the northern women,” she says in conclusion; “and am sure you won't forget me and fall in love with one of those ill-looking, wheezing, whining, ignorant creatures. That's what Johnny Scott says all the Yankee women are like, and he's been North three or four times, you know.”
“Poor, dear, confiding girl,” said Harry. “I'm afraid Johnny Scott wanted to make her mind easy about her far-off sweetheart, and so invented this charming fiction about the northern lasses. How her eyes would be opened if she could take a run through the cities and country towns all the way from the state of Maine to the Missouri river and see the thousands and thousands of pretty faces that could be seen there.”
To judge by the passages of the letters giving the news and rumors concerning the progress of the war, it was evident that the most astounding stories of the prowess of the southern soldiers and the cowardice of the northern ones were in active circulation. The latter had been defeated over and over again, and generally ran at the first fire; sometimes they even ran before a shot was fired, and gave the enemy the victory without spilling a drop of blood.
There was an amusing juxtaposition of paragraphs, one of which said the Yankees were being driven back everywhere as fast as they could be met, and the other saying they were pushing down into the South all the time “further and further.” Evidently the writer of the letter was puzzled at this, for she says:
“I asked Colonel Jones that if we were whipping the Yanks all the time, how it was they kept coming further down South as fast as we whipped them. He said a woman could n't understand war; he could excuse my asking such a question, but if it had been a man that asked it he would have arrested him for a Yankee spy. Of course I am aware, Charles, that I don't know anything about war, and I wish you'd write me something, so that I can talk understandingly. I think I can guess it; the southern generals want to entice the Yanks down into the South, and when they get ready to kill the whole lot, none of them can get away.”
This was the explanation given on several occasions by the rebel leaders in reply to inquiries as to the reasons for certain retirements of the rebel troops. A letter from Colonel Thomas H. Price, of General Price's staff, was among the correspondence captured at Springfield. It had been left behind by the general in his hasty departure. This letter was dated at Memphis, January sixth, and contained, among other information, the following:
* * * I shall start in the morning for Richmond. I have not the least wish or curiosity to go, but Major Anderson and Colonel Hunt, of the Quartermaster and Ordnance Departments, advise to go immediately there. I tell everybody who mentions your retreat that you only moved your camp to be more convenient to forage, etc.
There were many other letters which the rebel general left behind in his flight that were of special interest to the union commanders, as they revealed the methods of recruiting and gathering provisions in the Confederate states. There was a complaint that the governor of Arkansas had placed an embargo on the shipment of pork, corn and other produce to New Orleans, on the ground that it would all be needed for feeding the Arkansas troops in the field. One man said he had bought twelve thousand pounds of pork to ship to New Orleans, and on which he expected a handsome profit, but owing to the action of the governor he was unable to sell a pound of it.
This was agreeable news to the union commanders, as it went far to insure a good supply of provisions in any movements the Army of the Southwest might make in Arkansas. Various letters gave the strength of the rebel forces at different points, and altogether a good deal of information was obtained from the captured correspondence.
The rebels had established a foundry and armory at Springfield. In the former they were casting shot and shell for the use of the artillerymen, and in the latter small arms were being repaired and cartridges made for the infantry, while swords were fashioned and put in serviceable condition for the cavalry.
Several buildings were filled with provisions, one large one being quite untouched. The reason why the torch was not applied to these storehouses and their contents will be seen later on.
CHAPTER XXIV. A RAPID PURSUIT—“THE ARKANSAS TRAVELER”—GAME CHICKENS
The union army followed closely after the rebel one, and for more than a hundred miles the chase was continued. Sometimes the advance of the pursuers was not more than a mile or two from the rear of the pursued. A retreating army always has the advantage, as it has a clear road, while the advancing one must carefully reconnoiter the ground to prevent falling into ambuscades. Then, too, the retreating force can forage upon the country, where there is anything to be obtained in it, and by clearing it of provisions and supplies of every kind make it a difficult matter for the pursuers to feed themselves, unless by waiting for the wagon-trains, which are always an encumbrance and hinder rapid movements.
General Price did not stop to form ambuscades or otherwise engage the advance of General Curtis, but kept straight on toward the southwest till he formed a junction with McCulloch at Cross Hollows in northern Arkansas. Cross Hollows is a curious sort of a place, and is well described by its name. The rolling and hilly country is suddenly broken by a series of ravines that spread out from a common center like the rays of a star. Ravines in this part of the country are generally known by the more prosaic name of “Hollows,” and the crossing of the hollows gives the name to the locality.
The main road from Springfield to Fayetteville and the southwest traverses the center of the hollows. A short distance before reaching the hollows it crosses a fine stream of water, which bears the name of Sugar Creek. The water of Sugar Creek is pure, like that of a mountain brook. In its shallow parts it is without color, but wherever it attains a depth of thirty inches or more it is deeply tinged with blue. This is the character of the streams generally through that section of country, and when one looks down from a height upon the valley of one of these streams the effect of the pools of blue alternating with the white water of the shallow portions and the green of the enclosing banks forms a very pretty picture.
Down to that time none of the union forces in southwest Missouri had ever crossed the line into Arkansas. General Vandever's brigade was leading the advance of the infantry column, a half mile or so behind the cavalry, and Jack and Harry were as far in front as they were permitted to go. When the head of the column reached the line a halt was ordered, the regiments were closed up, and preparations were made for commemorating the invasion of the seceded state in an imposing manner.
For some days the bands had been practicing the music of “The Arkansas Traveler,” one of the far-seeing officers of the staff having supplied the leaders with the score. After the column had been halted two of the bands were brought forward and stationed on each side of the road, where a post marked the boundary between Missouri and Arkansas. When all was ready the bands started up “The Arkansas Traveler,” and with their rifles at right-shoulder shift, and in column of fours the infantry filed past. As each company crossed the frontier a loud cheer was given, and the greatest enthusiasm prevailed. To add to the good spirits of the men the news of the fall of Fort Donelson reached them and spread like wildfire on their first night in camp on the soil of Arkansas.
Price and McCulloch united their forces at Cross Hollows and made a stand against the union advance, though evidently not a serious one, as there was only a slight skirmish, after which the rebels retired in the direction of Fayetteville twenty-two miles further on. The cavalry division pursued them to that point, but the infantry halted at Cross Hollows. Even at Fayetteville the rebels did not feel strong enough to make a fight, but continued their retreat after a short resistance over the Boston Mountains in the direction of Fort Smith, where for a long time the United States government had formerly maintained a military post.
The rebels had accumulated at Fayetteville a considerable supply of bacon, corn and other materials for feeding their army, and when our troops arrived most of the storehouses containing these supplies were on fire. It was afterward ascertained that the burning of these storehouses had been the cause of a serious dispute between Price and McCulloch—a renewal of their quarrel at the time of the Wilson's Creek campaign.
Price wanted to leave these supplies for the use of the union army, and he argued as follows: We've got to retreat, and the union army is going to stay here till we drive them out. They are in our country, and more than two hundred miles from their base. They will forage on the country for a large part of their supplies, and if we leave this bacon and corn they will have just so much less to take from the people, who are our people, and not theirs. Arkansas is a seceded state, and the Yankees and Dutch won't have any compunctions about living on the state that they might have in Missouri, which they claim to be still in the union, and are trying to keep there. The easier it is for them to find their living the easier it will be for Arkansas.
On this line of argument Price opposed the destruction of the supplies. McCulloch opposed his view of the matter, and said it was no part of their business to help feed the Yankee army, and what happened to the people was simply the fortune of war. The quarrel reached its height and came near a fighting point when McCulloch accused Price of disloyalty to the South and a willingness to see Arkansas subjugated by the Northern troops.
Price was overruled and the stores were set on fire. His prediction was verified, as the union forces foraged right and left among the people, and certainly caused them much more hardship than would have been the case had the supplies fallen into our hands. Which of them was right in the argument the reader may decide for himself. Certainly the question, like most matters on which men differ, had two well-defined sides.
McCulloch's army had spent the winter at Cross Hollows, where it erected buildings capable of lodging eight or ten thousand men. When the rebels retired from Cross Hollows these buildings were set on fire, and by the time our troops arrived all but half a dozen of them had been consumed. The ashes remained to mark the spot, and the positions of the smoking ash-heaps showed that the cantonment was laid out with the regularity of a carefully-platted town.
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The Third Illinois Cavalry, which was attached to General Vandever's brigade, followed closely upon the heels of the enemy after the skirmish at Sugar Creek, and pushed on in the direction of Fayetteville. A single company was retained by the general for scouting purposes, and to this company Jack and Harry were temporarily attached. The youths were among the first to enter the rebel cantonment and try to save what they could from the flames.
Harry's sharp eyes fell upon some chickens, of which a hundred or more were running wildly about the place.
The slaughter of the innocents began at once; chickens were not abundant in that part of the country, and Harry thought a fine fowl would be very welcome at the general's mess-table that evening, and he was also of the opinion that a similar bird would taste well for himself and Jack.
He secured two, and remarked to Jack that they were the thinnest birds of the kind he had yet come across. “But they're chickens, anyhow,” said he, “and if they're too tough for broiling they will do well in a stew.”
Jack was equally fortunate in his chicken hunt, but his second bird was a surprise that caused his eyes to open very wide.
“Just look at this,” said he to Harry, as he pointed to the legs of the fowl; “wonder what this means?”
The objects that arrested his attention were a pair of steel “gaffs” as sharp as needles, and attached by straps and cords to the legs of the chicken; they were hollow at the base, so that they passed over the natural spurs of the bird.
“I never saw anything like this,” said Jack, “and don't believe it grows there.”
“Nor I either,” replied Harry. “Here comes the general; let's show it to him and find out what it's all about.”
Jack ran to General Vandever and exhibited his discovery. The latter immediately ordered the slaughter of the chickens to cease, and it was stopped at once, but not till two-thirds of the number about the camp had fallen.
“These are game cocks,” said the general, “and they're kept for fighting purposes. I heard that the Third Louisiana had a lot of game cocks, and were keeping them here for amusing themselves. They come from a chicken-fighting region, and this is one of their favorite sports. They get up matches, on which they bet heavily, and then the fighting-cocks are equipped with these spurs or gaffs, and put in the ring against each other. The bird that can first pierce the other with these gaffs generally wins the fight, as a well-directed blow with them is fatal.
“Probably we interrupted a fight,” the general continued. “This bird was certainly all ready for the ring, and if you look around you 'll find another similarly equipped and about to proceed to business.”
Sure enough, the antagonist of the bird was found in the hands of a soldier; at any rate, there was another chicken with the gaffs on that had been killed before his character was known. Game chickens are not considered edible except in case of emergency. Those that had been killed were, however, duly served up, as it was thought extravagant to waste anything in the chicken line at that particular time. It was as Harry had predicted, the chickens were not good for broiling, but they did fairly well when stewed, especially when the stewing continued all night.
The birds that were saved from slaughter were the source of much amusement to the officers while the army remained in camp at Cross Hollows. Almost every day there was a cock-fight in front of one of the tents, but it was generally bloodless, as nobody knew anything about handling the birds, and the steel gaffs were never used. The names of the rebel leaders were given to the fighters, and it was a common occurrence to have Beauregard pitted against Jeff Davis, Price against McCulloch, or Lee against Johnston. General Vandever turned two of the birds over to the care of Jack and Harry. Harry's pet was called Magruder, and Jack's received the fighting name of Breckinridge.
In the first encounter Breckinridge tore three feathers out of Magruder's neck and otherwise disabled him, so that Harry lost his wager. But as betting in money was not in order, and the stakes consisted only of army crackers, the youths' losses were not heavy.
One after another the fighting-chickens went to the cooking-pots, as they were not securely guarded and several of the officers had negro servants. There is a traditional affinity between the negro and the chicken, an affinity which results in the absorbing of the latter by the former. Some of the negro servants were good foragers, and ran considerable risk in their search for supplies, as we shall see later on.