Now began one of the bloodiest and most fiercely contested small battles of the war. The enemy had no artillery, but Foster had two pieces of the Third Indiana battery. The lieutenant in charge of the piece, J. F. Devlin, had been removed by Major Foster the night before for being intoxicated, and the guns placed in charge of Sergeant James M. Scott, and nobly did he uphold the confidence placed in him. Never was there a battery better or more bravely served. Time and time again did the enemy charge upon the guns, only to be flung back, bleeding and torn.
During a lull in the conflict, Lieutenant Devlin, somewhat recovered from his drunken debauch, staggered on the field and ordered his men to abandon the pieces. Accustomed to obey their superior officer, the men did so. The enemy saw and with fiendish yells of triumph swarmed upon and over the pieces.
It was a critical moment. Major Foster hastily collected sixty men and charged on the guns—so shamelessly abandoned by the order of a drunken commander. Of the sixty men who charged, but eleven reached the guns, the rest had fallen, and among them the gallant Major. Others now rushed to the rescue, the artillery men came back, and once more the guns were thundering their defiance. The enemy again rushed on them, only to be bloodily repulsed.
Disheartened, the Confederates now fell back, leaving the field to those who had so valiantly defended it. But the situation of the little band was perilous. Nothing had been heard from Warren, and nearly one-half of the force had fallen. Captain Brawner, on whom the command had fallen, resolved to retreat to Lexington. In doing this the two cannon had to be abandoned.
Every horse had been shot, even the harnesses were in tatters. Of the thirty-six artillery men manning the guns, twenty-four had been killed and wounded. The severely wounded had to be left, among them the gallant Foster.[5]
So severe had been the punishment administered to the enemy that the Federals were not molested in their retreat. It put an end to all the Confederates' hopes of capturing Lexington.[6]
But where were Lawrence and Dan all the time the battle was raging? Why had they not brought Colonel Warren to the rescue?
In the early morning they had run into a small party of guerrillas, had boldly charged them and put them to flight, but the sound of firing had brought a larger party, and they blocked the way Lawrence and Dan wished to go. It was now light, and they saw the band numbered at least fifty. There was no help for it, they had to turn and run, and that in a direction that for aught they knew would bring them in the midst of the enemy.
With fierce yells the guerrillas took up the pursuit and the chase was a hot one. Lawrence and Dan were well mounted, but a few of the guerrillas were just as well mounted, and pressed them closely.
Now as they fled, above the sound of their horses' hoofs rose the sound of battle. Just the faint cracking of musketry, and then the boom of the cannon.