In the Saddle

by Oliver Optic

THE YOUNG HERO OF THE BATTLE

The steed of the officer of the Texans was a diminutive animal, and was, perhaps, a mustang from Mexico, a tough little beast with nearly the endurance of a mule. Ceph, in the exercise through which his young master put him when they were alone by themselves, had leaped quite as high as the backbone of the officer's steed; but it was under favorable circumstances. In the furious conflict both the rider and the steed were excited in the highest degree.

Ceph had failed to leap over the back of the mustang, but he had brought him to the ground, and the lieutenant upon him; for he could do nothing for himself, and Deck made a vigorous use of his sabre the moment the enemy was under him, as his gallant charger sprang from the wreck he had accomplished, and dashed forward into the mêlée.

If Deck had won no prize for his sabre drill, it was only because none was offered. He was as quick as a flash in his movements, and had a strong arm. The Ranger nearest to his officer when the latter went down aimed a tremendous blow at the head of the young soldier, which would have cleft it in twain if Deck had not parried it skilfully and powerfully. In return, he inflicted the same kind of a blow upon his assailant, whose horse carried him out of the affray when he ceased to direct him, and he fell to the ground at the side of the road.

The ringing voice of the Texan officer was no longer heard in the furious strife, and the Rangers were fighting each on his own responsibility. Captain Truman had brought up his men, and they had made a tremendous onslaught. The ten men sent to the flank had done their whole duty, and Deck found not a single one of the enemy who was not engaged in a hand-to-hand encounter with a Ranger. The enemy were surrounded, hemmed in, and discouraged by the fall of their brave leader. They were also outnumbered, and one of them was often engaged with two of the Union cavalrymen.

The Texans had assuredly done all that could be done, and it was soon evident that they were only defending themselves till they could work out of the desperate mêlée. On the flanks, as they could detach themselves from the struggling mass, they fled into the field on the south of the road. Such a conflict could last but a few moments, for there was not breath enough in the human body to keep up such a strain.

An observer would have supposed that more than half on both sides had been killed; yet very few had fallen to the ground, and fewer still had come out of it without wounds of greater or less magnitude. The Texans fought to free themselves from the embrace of the Unionists, as it were; and as soon as they had worked out of the confusion, they fled at the best speed of their half-exhausted animals. Some one among them had taken in the lay of the country; and they all fled in one direction, which was towards the road by which they had come from their camp.

The battle was fought, and the Union cavalrymen remained in possession of the field. Most of the men were at least spotted with gore, and some of them looked as though they had been at work in a slaughter-house. Dr. Farnwright had already begun his work at the side of the road. Three of the company were silent and motionless, and the surgeon had pronounced them dead. The wagons were sent for, including those of the Guards, and the few who were severely wounded were sent to the hospital the surgeon had established.