A Lieutenant at Eighteen Part 25

"Missing?" repeated the father of the lieutenant. "I will hear your report later;" and he rode back to the head of the column.

CHAPTER XXIII

WITHIN THE CONFEDERATE LINES

The fall of the gigantic Tennessee lieutenant had created something like a panic among his cavalrymen who were pressing forward to flank the Kentuckians; and Sergeant Fronklyn, his face still covered with blood, seized the opportunity of their retirement to the rear to drag the form of Lieutenant Lyon out of the melee, and place him on the bank of the creek which bounded the camp on the west.

His first care was to wet his handkerchief from his canteen, and wash the blood from his face, so that he could see better. Then he felt of his wound which was somewhat swollen, and found the scalpskin was torn away from his head just above the temple. The bullet from the pistol of the trooper had glanced across his head with force enough to stun him without making a very bad wound. He washed it with the handkerchief, and then tied it over the top of his head, and under his chin.

He realized that he had had a very narrow escape from death; for if the ball had hit him an inch lower, it would certainly have killed him. He took a long draught of water from his canteen, and felt better. He was very thankful for his escape, and believed he should recover from the wound in a week. He knew that he was a prisoner; but it was probable that the Union army would open fire upon the intrenchments the next morning, and would capture it in the end, be it sooner or later.

He had seated himself by the side of the motionless form of his officer, not doubting that he was dead, though he immediately proceeded to satisfy himself on this question. He placed his hand on his heart.

He had been a student in a medical inst.i.tution at the time of his enlistment, and had made considerable progress in his studies, and had a.s.sisted Dr. Farnwright in the hospital when the occasion would permit.

The organ of life was still beating, and he uttered an exclamation of satisfaction. Thus encouraged, he continued to investigate the condition of the lieutenant. He could find no open wound, but there was a considerable swelling on the top of the head. He was convinced that the case would not be fatal. Taking the patient's handkerchief from the inside of his coat, he wet it thoroughly from his canteen. Then he unloosed the belt, and opened wide his coat.

He sprinkled the face from the wet handkerchief, and then bathed it very patiently for half an hour. At the end of this time the patient opened his eyes, slowly at first, and soon had them wide open. He recovered his consciousness later, and complained of a nausea at his stomach, and he continued to have an increase of the symptom till he had discharged the contents of that member.

"I feel better," said he very faintly, as he looked about him, and seemed to be bewildered. "Who are you?" he inquired; for it was too dark by this time for him to see anything distinctly.

"I am Sergeant Fronklyn," replied his attentive nurse. "Don't you know me, Lieutenant Lyon?"

"I should know you if I could see your face," replied Deck with a stronger voice.

"It is becoming rather dark about here. Have you any pain, Lieutenant?"

inquired the sergeant.

"None of any consequence, Fronklyn; but my head aches," answered Deck.

"Where do I happen to be just now?"

"Don't you remember what took place an hour ago, or more?"

"I have an idea that I was in a fight; but it all came to an end very suddenly," replied Deck, raising his head, and then sitting up on the ground.

"You were in a sharp fight, and you have lain here like a log for half an hour or more. I was afraid that you had been killed; but I thank G.o.d with all my heart and soul that you are still living," said Fronklyn very devoutly.

"Some of it comes back to me now," said the patient, as he looked about him as if to ascertain where he was; for his companion had not informed him on this point. "I had just struck down a trooper with my sabre when I heard the tramp of a horse behind me. I was about to wheel so as to face him, when I felt a blow on my head, and I can remember nothing more."

"You fell on the field, as I had before you."

"Are you wounded, Fronklyn?"

"I am slightly; and my case seems to be something like yours, though it was a pistol-ball that brought me down. I saw the trooper aim a great horse-pistol that might have been a hundred years old, and I have no doubt that the bullet was as big as they fire in those ancient flint-lock muskets. It stunned me for the moment; but I was on my feet at once, and saw you fall," the sergeant explained.

"Are you much hurt, Fronklyn?" asked Deck.

"Only a flesh-wound that will heal up in a week, or less. When I can get at my knapsack I will put a plaster on it."

"But you have not told me where we are, Fronklyn, and I cannot tell for the life of me," continued the lieutenant, looking around him again.

"Don't you remember that we were in the enemy's fortification when the fight went on?"

"I remember that. We had been crowded into the enemy's intrenchments by the crazy mob. A Southern captain claimed our platoon as the prisoners of his company; and that made me so mad that I ordered our men to charge upon them, and fight their way out of the fort," returned the wounded officer, whose mind seemed to be clear enough by this time.

"And that was just what we were doing when both of us went down; though I was on my feet soon enough to drag you out of the fight," replied the sergeant.

"What has become of the platoon?"

"You were on the flank, and Life Knox got in at the head of the men, dropping every Confederate that came in front of him; and the rest of our fellows were not far behind him. None of them were captured; but two were killed, and probably some of them were slightly wounded."

"The men are not prisoners, then?"

"They are not."

"How is it with us?"

"I suppose we are prisoners, for we are within the enemy's lines; but no person has been near us as we lay here. I think the Southerners have all they can attend to at present, and doubtless they are getting ready for a fight to-morrow morning; for General Thomas will certainly clean them out before he has done with them."

"What is to be done with us?" suggested Deck.

"That is a question, Lieutenant."

"Well, the next business in order is to get away, for I have no fancy for being taken to the South, since the Confederates have no provisions for their own men, and as prisoners we would starve with them," said Deck. "I haven't had my supper yet, and I feel a little faint. I have enough to eat in my haversack."

"So have I; for we were so busy at noon, that I did not have time to eat much dinner, though it was served as usual. I think we had better go to supper now, and then we will look about us."

Both of them began to eat from their haversacks, and they made a hearty meal of it. The lieutenant declared that he felt all right then, and his head did not ache half so bad as it had when he first came to himself. In the excitement of the day Deck had eaten very little. He had been careful that his soldiers had their dinner, but he had been too busy to attend to the matter himself. He had become somewhat faint while within the breastworks before the charge. At any rate, he felt a great deal better after he had eaten his supper.

"I wonder what they are doing in here," said he, looking to the middle of the camp, though it was now so dark that he could not make out anything.

"Of course there is going to be another battle in the morning, and the enemy here are getting ready for it," replied Fronklyn. "General Thomas was sent down here to capture these works, and drive the enemy away from this region, and he is going to do it. He is a regular army officer, and he understands his business."

"What do you suppose has become of your horse and mine, Fronklyn?"

asked Deck, as he looked about him again. "I wouldn't lose Ceph for everything else I have in the world."

"I saw him pressing forward with the men after you had fallen, and it seemed as though he meant to do some fighting on his own account,"

replied the sergeant. "I fancy that both our horses went with the men out of the fort, and that they will be cared for, even if they are wandering about in the fields."

"The question just now is how we are to get out of this sc.r.a.pe," said Deck, as he rose from his seat on the wet ground. "I don't like the idea of going South as a prisoner, and not much better being paroled, and tied up in idleness for I don't know how long. We must get out of this place, Fronklyn."

"I am entirely of your opinion, Lieutenant; but I don't see any chance to do so now," replied the sergeant. "They have closed up the entrance by which we were forced in; for it is as dark there as all along the breastworks."

"No men appear to be stirring in this part of the camp, though there are plenty of them not ten rods from us," added Deck.

"But there is a line of sentinels all along the inside of the breastworks. I made out the men before it was as dark as it is now. If it wasn't for them we could climb over it, and go back to our camp,"