Rodney Gray was now a full-fledged partisan; but the company to which he was attached was more like mounted infantry than cavalry, for with the exception of the commissioned officers, there was scarcely one among the men who was provided with a saber. The most of Price's men were armed with shotguns and hunting rifles, and in some respects were superior to cavalry. They could move rapidly, fight as infantry, and if worsted in the engagement, jump on their horses and make a quick retreat. Their uniform was cadet gray with light blue slashings, and so nearly like the one that had been worn by the Barrington students, that all Dick Graham had to do to pass muster on dress parade was to add a sergeant's chevrons to the old uniform he had worn at school. Rodney Gray was an "odd sheep in the flock," but Dick had two suits of clothes, one of which his friend Rodney always wore when he was on duty, for Captain Jones was somewhat particular, and wanted his men to appear well on post and when they were ordered out for drill. The mail-carrier who took Rodney's first letter to his father from the camp, took also an order for a full outfit which was addressed to a merchant tailor in Little Rock. Being shut off from St. Louis by Lyon's advancing troops, all the mail, with the exception of some secret correspondence which was kept up during the whole of the war, was sent by courier to Little Rock and New Madrid, and from these places forwarded to its destination in the South.
Rodney Gray arrived at Price's camp during the latter part of June; and almost immediately became aware that preparations were being made for an event of some importance. There was much scouting going on, although he and Dick took no part in it, much to their regret, and now and then there was a skirmish reported. The junction of Price's forces with those of Jackson and Rains, which Siegel hoped to prevent by a rapid march upon Neosho, took place at Carthage, as we have said; but in spite of this Siegel resolved to attack. He left Neosho on the 4th of July, and on the 6th, fought the battle of Carthage against a greatly superior force. Rodney's regiment was in the thickest of it. It tried to outflank Siegel in order to seize his wagon train, but could not stand against the terrible cross-fire of the Union artillery, which mowed them down like blades of grass. The first man killed in Rodney's company was the one who had given him that copy of the Richmond Whig. While charging at Rodney's side he was struck in the breast by a piece of shell, and in falling almost knocked the Barrington boy out of his saddle. There was no time to be frightened or to think of lending a helping hand to his injured comrade, for the line in the rear was coming on, yelling like mad, and anything that opposed its progress would have been run down; anything, perhaps, except that well-managed battery on their right, whose steady, merciless fire was more than living men could endure. They broke and fled, and were not called into action again that day; for when Siegel, finding that he could not take the town, withdrew from the field for the purpose of effecting a junction with another Union force stationed at Mount Vernon, midway between Carthage and Springfield, the road he followed led through thick woods in which mounted troops could not operate. Here the Union commander, aided by his superior artillery and long range rifles, held his own until darkness came on and the Confederates retreated. It was a drawn battle. The Confederates did not dare renew the attack, and Siegel was afraid to hold the field long enough to give his weary troops a chance to rest. He marched all night and reached his destination the next day.
[Illustration: THE CHARGE OF THE RANGERS.]
When the orderly sergeant of Rodney's company came to make out his report, he found that there were six men missing out of seventy-three. One out of twelve was not a severe loss for an hour's fight (when Picket's five thousand made their useless charge at Gettysburg they lost seven men out of every nine), but it was enough to show Rodney that there was a dread reality in war. He told Dick Graham that as long as he lived he would never forget the expression that came upon the face of the comrade who fell at his side, the first man he had ever seen killed. He did not want to go to sleep that night, for fear that he would see that face again in his dreams.
"They say a fellow gets over feeling so after a while," was the way in which Dick sought to comfort and encourage him. "But I'll tell you what's a fact: I don't believe that a man in full possession of his senses can ever go into action without being afraid."
General Lyon's advance troops having been forced to retreat, the boys began to wonder what was to be the next thing on the programme, and it was not long before they found out. Notwithstanding the confident prediction of the captain who commanded the scouting party that had rescued him from the power of the Union men at Truman's house (that fifteen thousand Confederates would be enough to meet and whip the twenty thousand Federals that Lyon was supposed to be concentrating at Springfield), Price began falling back toward Cassville, striving as he went to increase his force by fair means or foul. His mounted troopers carried things with a high hand. If a citizen, listening to their patriotic appeals, shouldered his gun, mounted his horse and went with them, he was a good fellow, a brave man, and his property was safe; but if he showed the least reluctance about "falling in," he was at once accused of being a Union man and treated accordingly. Price wanted fifty thousand men; but, as he afterward told the people of Missouri, less than five thousand, out of a male population of more than two hundred thousand, responded to his calls for help. It may or may not be a fact that that small number comprised all the men that were sworn into the State service; but it is a fact that he commanded more than eight thousand men at the battle of Carthage, and more than twenty thousand at the siege of Lexington. Price's object in falling back toward Cassville was to meet McCulloch with his seven thousand four hundred men who were coming up from Arkansas to reinforce him, and to draw Lyon as far as possible from his base of supplies. These forces met at Crane Creek, and almost immediately there began a conflict of authority between Price and McCulloch, the former urging and the latter opposing an attack upon the Union troops at Springfield. The dispute was finally settled by General Polk, who sent an order all the way from Columbus, Kentucky, commanding McCulloch to advance at once. Observe that he did not include Price in the order, for at this period of the war the Confederate authorities respected State Rights after a fashion of their own (they did not even remove their capital from Montgomery to Richmond until Virginia had given them her gracious permission to do so), and gave no signs of a leaning toward the despotism which they established in less than twelve months.
Meanwhile General Lyon, whose position was one of the greatest danger, could not wait to be attacked. He had weakened his army by garrisoning all the places he seized during his advance and now he had only seven thousand troops left. Even this small force was rapidly growing less, for as fast as their terms of enlistment expired, they were permitted to return to their homes; provisions were getting scarce; and General Fremont, who had lately assumed command of the Western Department, could not send him any reinforcements from St. Louis. So the only thing the Union commander could do to stop the Confederate advance and extricate himself from the dangers with which he was surrounded, was to assume the offensive.
The historian tells us that there was something sublime in that bold march of Lyon on the night of the 9th of August, with a force of five thousand men, to Wilson's Creek, to meet in the morning an army numbering anywhere between fifteen and twenty thousand. His only hope of success lay in a surprise; but there was where he was disappointed, for it so happened that at the time he made his advance, the enemy was making preparations to attack him on four sides at once; but while they were thinking about it, they were assailed by two columns, one in front and the other on the flank. This brought about the battle of Wilson's Creek, which, next to Bull Run, was the severest engagement of the year. General Lyon was killed while leading a bayonet charge at the head of an Iowa regiment. Major Sturgis, on whom the command devolved, ordered a retreat after six hours of useless fighting, and the Confederates were too badly cut up to prevent his leisurely withdrawal. But, after all, that battle was a Union victory, for it "interposed a check against the combined armies of the Confederacy from which they could not readily recover." This one fight taught the "dashing Texan Ranger" McCulloch that there was a bit of difference between meeting a sterling Union soldier like Lyon, and a traitor like Twiggs who would surrender on demand, and a short time afterward he withdrew into Arkansas, leaving Price to continue the campaign, or disband his State troops and go home, just as he pleased. At least that is what history says about it; but when Rodney and Dick asked their captain why it was that the two armies separated after going to so much trouble to get together, the reason given was:
"We're waiting for orders from the War Department at Richmond. It will take a good while for them to get here, and in the meantime we don't want to impoverish the country. Price will stay here to watch the enemy, who have retreated toward Rolla, which is a hundred miles from here, and McCulloch will go into Arkansas to recruit his army. When the orders arrive we shall know what we are going to do next."
Of course it goes without saying that Rodney and Dick did soldiers' duty during the light at Wilson's Creek and in the subsequent movements of Price's troops, which resulted in the siege and capture of Lexington; but they did not see Tom Percival or hear of him, nor did they find opportunity to visit Dick Graham's home.