Now began one of the bloodiest and most fiercely contested small battles of the war. The enemy had no artillery, but Foster had two pieces of the Third Indiana battery. The lieutenant in charge of the piece, J. F.
Devlin, had been removed by Major Foster the night before for being intoxicated, and the guns placed in charge of Sergeant James M. Scott, and nobly did he uphold the confidence placed in him. Never was there a battery better or more bravely served. Time and time again did the enemy charge upon the guns, only to be flung back, bleeding and torn.
During a lull in the conflict, Lieutenant Devlin, somewhat recovered from his drunken debauch, staggered on the field and ordered his men to abandon the pieces. Accustomed to obey their superior officer, the men did so. The enemy saw and with fiendish yells of triumph swarmed upon and over the pieces.
It was a critical moment. Major Foster hastily collected sixty men and charged on the guns--so shamelessly abandoned by the order of a drunken commander. Of the sixty men who charged, but eleven reached the guns, the rest had fallen, and among them the gallant Major. Others now rushed to the rescue, the artillery men came back, and once more the guns were thundering their defiance. The enemy again rushed on them, only to be bloodily repulsed.
Disheartened, the Confederates now fell back, leaving the field to those who had so valiantly defended it. But the situation of the little band was perilous. Nothing had been heard from Warren, and nearly one-half of the force had fallen. Captain Brawner, on whom the command had fallen, resolved to retreat to Lexington. In doing this the two cannon had to be abandoned.
Every horse had been shot, even the harnesses were in tatters. Of the thirty-six artillery men manning the guns, twenty-four had been killed and wounded. The severely wounded had to be left, among them the gallant Foster.[5]
[Footnote 5: The brave Major recovered from what was supposed to be a mortal wound, was exchanged, and afterwards did valiant service for the Union.]
So severe had been the punishment administered to the enemy that the Federals were not molested in their retreat. It put an end to all the Confederates' hopes of capturing Lexington.[6]
[Footnote 6: Out of the seven hundred and forty Federals engaged in the battle the loss was two hundred and seventy-two. The Confederates never reported their loss, but a Confederate officer told Captain Brawner that they buried one hundred and eighteen, who had been killed outright, besides their hundreds of wounded.]
But where were Lawrence and Dan all the time the battle was raging? Why had they not brought Colonel Warren to the rescue?
In the early morning they had run into a small party of guerrillas, had boldly charged them and put them to flight, but the sound of firing had brought a larger party, and they blocked the way Lawrence and Dan wished to go. It was now light, and they saw the band numbered at least fifty.
There was no help for it, they had to turn and run, and that in a direction that for aught they knew would bring them in the midst of the enemy.
With fierce yells the guerrillas took up the pursuit and the chase was a hot one. Lawrence and Dan were well mounted, but a few of the guerrillas were just as well mounted, and pressed them closely.
Now as they fled, above the sound of their horses' hoofs rose the sound of battle. Just the faint cracking of musketry, and then the boom of the cannon.
"Great Heavens!" gasped Lawrence. "They are at it. Foster and his little band against thousands. Why did we leave them? We might have been of a little help."
"And we are going farther away from Warren every minute," groaned Dan.
Here the whistling of a bullet from the revolver of the nearest guerrilla brought their thoughts back to the seriousness of their own situation. They had now gone beyond the sound of the musketry, but the roar of the cannon grew more incessant, and they knew they were almost in the rear of the enemy.
Coming to where there were open fields, they glanced to the right and saw the stragglers and wounded drifting to the rear, as is always the case in time of battle. They must turn or they would soon be in the midst of the rabble.
Fortunately, they came to a cross road and turned into it. They were now followed by only five or six of their pursuers, the rest having turned back to take part in the battle. But these half dozen were mounted on the fleetest horses and were gaining on them rapidly. Already the bullets were singing around them freely.
"This cannot last," Lawrence exclaimed. "Our horses are becoming winded.
We must find some way to stop those fellows."
"We've got to stop them," said Dan. "My horse is staggering and I look for him to drop any minute."
They rode over a little hill that for a moment put them out of sight.
"Now," said Lawrence, halting and wheeling his horse. Dan did the same.
"When they come over the hill give it to them," exclaimed Lawrence. "It will be a question of who can shoot the straightest."
Dan smiled and he drew his revolver. He was known to be a dead shot, and nothing rattled him.
They had hardly two seconds to wait when four of the guerrillas dashed over the rise. Seeing Lawrence and Dan facing them and not thirty yards away, startled them and they instinctively tried to check their headlong pace. It was a fatal mistake, for it disconcerted their aim and their shots went wild.
To his astonishment, Lawrence recognized one of the guerrillas as Jerry Alcorn, his old time enemy. Lawrence fired, but just as he did so Jerry's horse threw up his head and the ball struck him squarely between the eyes. The horse dropped like a stone, pinning Jerry for a moment to the ground.
Dan had fired the same time Lawrence did and his guerrilla pitched headlong. The report of his shot had not died before he shot again and a second guerrilla fell.
The remaining guerrilla had no stomach to continue the fight, and wheeled his horse to flee. Once more Dan's revolver spoke, and the guerrilla fell forward, but he clung desperately to the neck of his horse and was soon carried from view.
It took Jerry Alcorn but a moment to extricate himself from his horse, and as he half rose he fired at Lawrence, but missed. Lawrence returned the fire, and the ball struck Jerry's revolver and sent it spinning.
With a mocking laugh Jerry sprang into the bushes along the road. "Not this time, Lawrence Middleton," he shouted as he disappeared, "but we'll meet again."
"Let's get out of here," said Lawrence. "We can't follow Jerry in the brush and we are now safe from pursuit."
Even the short stop had allowed their horses a breathing spell and they could now ride more leisurely.
"Dan, I'm a poor stick. I should be reduced to the ranks and you given my commission," said Lawrence.
"How's that?" asked Dan.
"Didn't you get three of those fellows, and I only killed a horse and disabled a revolver. Missed three shots." Lawrence had fired again at Jerry as he disappeared in the brush. "Bah! I'm ashamed of myself."
"Look here!" said Dan. "It was that measly horse. He had no business to throw up his head at that moment. Served him right to get killed."
"But the second shot, Dan. It went wild and hit his revolver, and the third missed altogether. And of all men to let Jerry Alcorn escape. Kick me, Dan."
"Might have bored one of us if you hadn't knocked the revolver out of his hand," answered Dan, "so shut up."
They had ridden far out of their way and had to make a wide circuit to get back. A little before noon the distant booming of the cannon was heard no longer.
"It's all over," sighed Lawrence, "and I'm afraid."
Dan's jaws came together with a snap and a dark scowl came over his face. "Why in thunder didn't Warren come?" he wrathfully exclaimed.
"Some of these officers make me tired."
It was the middle of the afternoon before Warren was found. He was fearful of an attack on himself, and was several miles from the battlefield.
To Lawrence's request to hurry the Colonel replied, "You say the battle is over and in all probability Foster's whole force captured. In that case I can do no good. My force is but little greater than that Foster had."
"But they may not all be captured. You may be able to cover the retreat," Lawrence urged.
"The best I can do is to stay and watch the enemy, and wait for reinforcements," replied Warren.
Lawrence and Dan were disgusted, but Warren was right in not seeking an engagement with his small force.
"What shall we do, Dan?" Lawrence asked with a heavy heart as they turned away.
"Try and see what has become of Foster," answered Dan.
"You're right, Dan."
They were about to ride away when news came that Foster's force was in full retreat for Lexington, and that those who survived the battle were safe.