The force at Morgan’s Lane was too great to meet front to front, and the ground so unfavorable for receiving their assault, that Mountjoy gave the order for his men to save themselves, and they abandoned the prisoners and horses, put spurs to their animals, and retreated at full gallop past the mill, across a little stream, and up the long hill upon which was situated the mansion above referred to. Behind them the one hundred Federal cavalrymen came on at full gallop, calling upon them to halt, and firing volleys into them as they retreated.
We beg now to introduce upon the scene the female dramatis personae of the incident—two young ladies who had hastened out to the fence as soon as the firing began, and now witnessed the whole. As they reached the fence, the fifteen men of Captain Mountjoy appeared, mounting the steep road like lightning, closely pursued by the Federal cavalry, whose dense masses completely filled the narrow road. The scene at the moment was sufficient to try the nerves of the young ladies. The clash of hoofs, the crack of carbines, the loud cries of “halt! halt!! halt!!!”—this tramping, shouting, banging, to say nothing of the quick hiss of bullets filling the air, rendered the “place and time” more stirring than 229 agreeable to one consulting the dictates of a prudent regard to his or her safety.
Nevertheless, the young ladies did not stir. They had half mounted the board fence, and in this elevated position were exposed to a close and dangerous fire; more than one bullet burying itself in the wood close to their persons. But they did not move—and this for a reason more creditable than mere curiosity to witness the engagement, which may, however, have counted for something. This attracted them, but they were engaged in “doing good,” too. It was of the last importance that the men should know where they could cross the river.
“Where is the nearest ford?” they shouted.
“In the woods there,” was the reply of one of the young ladies, pointing with her hand, and not moving.
“How can we reach it?”
“Through the gate,” and waving her hand, the speaker directed the rest, amid a storm of bullets burying themselves in the fence close beside her.
The men went at full gallop towards the ford. Last of all came Mountjoy—but Mountjoy, furious, foaming almost at the mouth, on fire with indignation, and uttering oaths so frightful that they terrified the young ladies much more than the balls or the Federal cavalry darting up the hill.
The partisan had scarcely disappeared in the woods, when the enemy rushed up, and demanded which way the Confederates had taken.
“I will not tell you,” was the reply of the youngest girl. The trooper drew a pistol, and cocking it, levelled it at her head.