"No, sir, no, sir," said Ransom. "It is Springfield in
Missouri. You find a Yankee wherever you go in this world."
"Wilson's Creek is the place of the battle," Mr. De Saussure went on. "Near Springfield, in Missouri. It was an overwhelming defeat. Lyon killed, and the next in command obliged to beat off."
"Who on our side?" asked my mother.
"Ben McCulloch and Price."
"How many engaged? Was it much of an affair?"
"We had twenty thousand or so. Of course, the others had more."
"It doesn't take but one or two Southerners to whip a score of those cowards," said Ransom.
"Why should not the war have got into New England, Mr. Randolph?" my mother asked. "You said, 'That cannot be.' Why should it not be?"
"There are a few thousand men in the way," said my father; "and I think they are not all cowards."
"They will never stand before our rifles," said De Saussure.