the weary eleven hundred. Seeing his advance about to waver the Union commander sends volley after volley from his entire reserve at the central point between his two detachments, and for a time the enemy is silenced in that quarter. But soon it opens again, and then Garfield orders all but a chosen hundred upon the mountain. There the battle grows terrible. Thick and thicker swarm the rebels on the crest, sharp and sharper rolls the musketry along the valley, and as volley after volley echoes among the hills and the white smoke curls up in long wreaths from the gleaming rifles a dense cloud gathers overhead as if to shut out the scene of carnage from the very eye of Heaven.

So the bloody work goes on, so the battle wavers till the setting sun wheeling below the hills glances along the dense line of rebel steel moveing down to envelop the weary eleven hundred. It is an awful moment, big with the immediate fate of Kentucky. At its very crisis two figures stand out against the fading sky, boldly defined in the foreground.

One is in Union blue with a little band of heroes about him. He is posted on a projecting rock which is scarred with bullets and in full view of both armies. His head is uncovered, his hair streaming in the wind, his face upturned in the darkening daylight and from his soul is going up a prayer a prayer for Sheldon and reinforce

ments.

He turns his eyes to the northward, his lips tighten, he pulls off his coat and throws it into the air and it lodges in a tree top out of reach, then he says to his hundred men:

"Boys, we must go at them."

The men threw up their caps with a wild shout and rush in, following the Union colonel who led them at a run, and in his shirt sleeves.

Moving

The other figure is in Rebel gray. out to the brow of the opposite hill and placing a glass to his eye, he too takes a long look to the northward. Suddenly he starts, for he sees something which the other on lower ground does not distinguish. Soon he wheels his horse and the word "Retreat" echoes along the valley between them. It is his last word; for six rifles crack, and the rebel major lies on the ground quivering. The one in blue looks to the north again as he clambers up the mountain and now floating proudly among the trees he sees the starry banner, that banner that has meant liberty and life to millions. It is Sheldon and his forces. On they come like the rushing wind filling the air with their shouting. The rescued eleven hundred take up the strain and then above the swift pursuit, above the lessening conflict, above the last boom of wheeling cannon goes the wild huzza of victory.

As they come back from the short pursuit, the young commander grasps man after man by the hand, and says:

"God bless you, boys! You have saved Ken. tucky!"

They had, indeed, and in a wonderful battle. Says that genial writer, Edmund Kirke: "In the history of the late war, there is not another like it. Measured by the forces engaged, the valor displayed and the results that followed, it throws into the shade the achievements of even that mighty host that saved the nation. Eleven hundred footsore and weary men, without cannon, charged up a rocky hill, over stumps, over stones, over fallen trees, over high intrenchments, right into the face of five thousand fresh troops with twelve pieces of artillery!"

To the reader, the action may seem insignificant, but it was of considerable importance to the Federal armies at this juncture. Captain F. H. Mason, in his history of the Forty-second Ohio Infantry, defines its place in history:

"The battle of Middle Creek, trifling though it may be considered in comparison with later contests, was the first substantial victory won for the Union cause. At Big Bethel, Bull Run, in Missouri, and at various points at which the Union and Confederate forces had come in contact, the latter had been uniformly victorious. The people of the North, giving freely of their men and their substance in response to each successive call of the government, had long and anxiously watched and waited for a little gleam of victory to show

ΙΟ

that northern valor was a match for southern impetuosity in the field. They had waited in vain since the disaster at Bull Run, during the previous summer, and hope had almost yielded to despair. The story of Garfield's success at Middle Creek came, therefore, like a benediction to the Union cause. Though won at a trifling cost it was decisive so far as concerned the purposes of that immediate campaign. Marshall's force was driven from Kentucky, and made no further attempt to occupy the Sandy Valley. The important victories at Mill Spring, Forts Donaldson and Henry, and the repulse at Shiloh, followed. The victory at Mill Creek proved the first wave of a returning tide."

Speaking of the engagement, Garfield said, after he had gained a wider experience in war: "It was a very rash and imprudent affair on my part. If I had been an officer of more experience, I probably should not have made the attack. As it was, having gone into the army with the notion that fighting was our business. I didn't know any better."

"And, during it all," says Judge Clark, who was in the Forty-second, "Garfield was the soldiers' friend. Such was his affection for the men that he would divide his last rations with them, and nobody ever found anything better at head-quarters than the rest got."

CHAPTER XIII.

A STEAMBOAT CAPTAIN AND THE CAPTURE OF POUND GAP.

T

HE night closed in upon the happy, bu tired men; another night, the long watches

of which were lived out upon the frozen ground. Garfield took the time to consider the situation. Marshall's forces were broken and demoralized. Though in full retreat, they might be overtaken and destroyed; but his own troops were half dead with fatigue and exposure, and had less than three days' rations. In these circumstances, Garfield prudently decided to occupy Prestonburg, and await the arrival of supplies before dealing a final blow at the enemy. On the day succeeding the battle he issued the following address to his army, which tells, in brief, the story of the campaign:

"SOLDIERS OF THE EIGHTEENTH BRIGADE: I am proud of you all! In four weeks you have marched, some eighty, and some a hundred miles, over almost impassable roads. One night in four you have slept, often in the storm, with only a wintry sky above your heads. You have marched in the face of a foe of more tnan double your number, led on by chiefs who have won a national re