We may remark here that owing to the wooded nature of the ground where the battle of Pea Ridge was fought, the cavalry on both sides were of comparatively little use. Among the brushwood and trees that spread over that region it was impossible to preserve the formation of the lines sufficiently to make a charge with any effect, except in a very few instances. Then, too, where the artillery was firing, the crashing of the shot and shell among the trees and the falling of the limbs frightened the horses, as we have just seen, and rendered them worse than useless. The cavalry was unable to accomplish anything of consequence, through no fault of the men, but owing to the nature of the country, and in several instances the runaway horses demoralized the infantry by dashing through the lines at inopportune moments.

The history of warfare in all ages abounds in accounts of panic created by runaway animals on the battlefield. Frightened elephants and horses caused the loss of battles by the Greeks, Romans and other warriors of antiquity, long before the invention of gunpowder. Since its discovery and use the instances of its panic-producing qualities are numerous. So much is this the case that the elephant among the Eastern nations has been almost entirely discarded on the battlefield, and is now only used in war for the more prosaic purposes of a beast of burden. With the increased range of artillery and small-arms in the past forty years the horse is gradually diminishing in importance as a fighting animal, and cavalry is chiefly useful nowadays for scouting purposes and for pursuing a demoralized enemy in retreat.

We will leave the two captives in the hands of their captors and return to Harry, whom we left with General Vandever.

The Ninth Iowa was getting out of ammunition, and the general sent Harry to order up a fresh supply. Away he rode to the rear, where the ammunition-wagons were stationed, and very quickly hunted up the one that he wanted and sent it forward. He not only sent but accompanied it, partly in order to show the road and partly to make sure that the driver did not turn aside on the way and seek a place of greater safety than where the shot and shell were falling. The driver was a brave fellow, however, and energetically lashed his team to keep up with the galloping youth in front of him.

By the time they reached the fighting line the regiment had again fallen back, leaving Elkhorn Tavern in the hands of the enemy. Not only did Harry bring the ammunition, which was speedily distributed, but he brought a message from General Curtis to General Carr that he was about to be reinforced.

“General Asboth has just returned from pursuing the rebels on the left,” said Harry, “and is coming with two regiments and a battery to support you.”

The word ran along the line like wildfire, and the men cheered heartily. Again the rebels came on in great force, and again they were met by a withering fire, and also by a bayonet charge by the infantry of both brigades of Carr's division.

But the rebels were as brave as the men they were facing, and before the reinforcements could reach the sorely-pressed division there was another charge, which forced the union line back across a series of open fields to the edge of a wood, which gave it the same sort of shelter the rebels had enjoyed during the greater part of the day. The union forces had the advantage now, as the enemy was obliged to make its charges across the fields, which could be raked with the artillery and small-arms with destructive effect.

“We've got'em now,” said General Vandever, turning to one of his officers; “and here we'll stick till night comes to stop the fighting. Sunset will come in an hour, and we can easily hold the position till then.”

His prediction was verified. The only attack made by the rebels on the last position was easily repulsed, and then the sun dipped below the horizon and the battle was over for the day.