Lyon was receiving no reinforcements, while Price was gaining in strength and adding to the effectiveness of his men. About the twentieth of July Lyon's force was weakened by the departure of two regiments of three-months' men whose time had expired, while the time of the First Iowa (the regiment to which Jack and Harry were attached ) would be out early in August. No wonder General Lyon was troubled in mind, and that he sent urgent appeals to General Fremont for immediate aid.
News came that the rebels were advancing upon Springfield and that a great battle was imminent. Jack and Harry were jubilant at the promise of fighting, but older ones shook their heads and looked serious. The secession inhabitants of Springfield were rejoicing over the prospect of soon being rid of their Yankee visitors; they could not conceal their delight, and this circumstance convinced the thoughtful ones among the unionists that the coming clash of arms would be anything but a light one.
CHAPTER XI. A TERRIBLE MARCH—A FIGHT AND A RETREAT.
On the first of August General Lyon marched out on the road to the southwest and in the direction where the enemy was supposed to be; in fact, where it was positively known that he could be found. Most of the wagons were left behind, and among them were those driven by Jack and Harry. Not wishing to miss the chance of seeing a battle, those enterprising youths accompanied the column by permission of their regimental quartermaster, and under promise to return whenever word reached them that they were wanted.
August is a hot month in that part of the country; in fact, it is a hot month, as everybody knows, from one end of the United States to the other. Only a few miles were made on the first day's march from Springfield, but those few miles witnessed the exhaustion of many of the soldiers. The next day the column moved on to a place known as “Dug Spring,” probably to distinguish it from the natural springs which abound through that country. And the heat of that day was something terrific.
Scores of men, overcome by the sultry atmosphere, dropped out of the line of march and fell exhausted by the roadside, where some of them died from the effects of sunstroke. Water was to be found only at long intervals, and when found the springs were soon rendered muddy or were completely exhausted by the crowds that rushed into them.
In southwest Missouri, as in many parts of the southern states, the spring which supplies a residence is covered with a frame building eight or ten feet square, and known as the springhouse. There are very few cellars in that region, and the springhouse is used for preserving milk, meat and other articles requiring the lowest attainable temperature in the absence of ice. The spring that gave the name to the locality in question was of this sort, and a small stream of water flowed from it perpetually, and probably is flowing still. To realize what happened there, let us quote from a letter which Harry wrote that evening to his mother:
“My Dear Mother: I have known what it was to be very thirsty, but until to-day I never knew what it was to suffer—actually suffer—for want of water, though I have often thought I knew. It was one of the hottest days I ever saw in my life; the road was just one long line of dust, as no rain had fallen for some time and the ground was perfectly dry. We had a little skirmishing with the rebels in front of us, but it was very evident that we only met small scouting parties of them, as they fell back very soon after we met them. But so much did the men suffer for want of water that they didn't care for the enemy, and would have risked their lives for a cooling drink from a brook or spring.