confronting him. Under this discouraging array of circumstances, General Lyon did not wait to be attacked, but determined to bring on the battle himself. His only hope lay in a bold stroke. He made it at the cost of his life, but his army was saved.

From the village of Springfield, Missouri, two roads lead outward-one to Fayetteville, Arkansas, southwestward, and one to Mt. Vernon, due westward. Both these roads cross Wilson's creek, five miles apart. Calling this five miles of Cross Road the base of a triangle, running along the stream, Springfield would be the apex, and the ten miles of highway leading from that village to the points of intersection with Wilson's Creek, would constitute the two remaining sides of the triangle. Looking towards Springfield on this base line at the creek, General Lyon was on the left, Sigel on the right, and the rebel army between.

It was the night of August ninth. Silently the force under General Lyon marched out of the streets of Springfield, and into the open country to meet the enemy, outnumbering them three to one. At one o'clock on the morning of the tenth they came in sight of the rebel camp fires, and halting cautiously, rested on their arms till day-break. General Lyon hoped by surprising the enemy in front and rear, put him to rout and gain a victory which would extricate him from the difficulties of his situation. To accomplish this purpose he had divided his command in two columns-his own force taking the Mt. Vernon road to attack the Rebels in front, and the other column under the intrepid Sigel moving down the

to

Fayetteville road to surprise the enemy in the rear. Sigel had with him six pieces of artillery, two companies of cavalry, and several regiments of infantry. The term of service of the Fifth Missouri volunteers had expired, and Colonel Sigel, by his personal influence had induced them to re-enlist for eight days; but this re-enlistment had also expired on the day before the battle. Many of the officers had gone home, and a considerable portion of Sigel's troops were raw recruits.

At daybreak on the morning of the tenth, Sigel with his command came within a mile of the rebel camp and captured about forty prisoners-Confederates who were going out for provisions and water. Quietly the Union troops marched up the hills bordering Wilson's Creek and beheld below them the rebel encampment. The enemy were breakfasting. A well-directed shot from Sigel's artillery, sent directly into the encampment, was the first intimation they received of his presence. Surprised into utter disorder, they retreated panic-stricken down the valley. Our infantry pursued, forming in the camp so recently occupied by the enemy. But, recovering from the first panic the enemy formed in line of battle, opposing Colonel Sigel's little band with a force three thousand strong. Our artillery and infantry moved into the valley, and after a short engagement the enemy was driven from the field. During this time the sound of battle from the other end of the valley road, told Sigel that Lyon was there, and in order to aid him Sigel urged his troops up the valley, obtaining a position where any attempted retreat of

the enemy might be cut off. He had taken one hundred prisoners, and everything looked promising, when by one of those accidents which no one can foresee, his temporary success was turned into disaster. The firing at the other end of the Cross Road had ceased, which led Sigel to the impression that Lyon was victorious and his troops in probable pursuit of the enemy. Large bodies of Confederates appearing to the eastward, and apparently retreating south, confirmed this idea, but owing to the gloom of the morning and the absence of all uniform it was impossible to distinguish Unionists from Confederates. At this juncture of affairs, Sigel received word that Lyon was advancing victoriously up the road, and the command not to fire upon the advancing troops, was given. Just as the soldiers of Sigel's command waved their flags in welcome to their supposed comrades in arms, a destructive fire burst upon them which covered the ground with the dead and the dying, and at the same moment a Rebel battery from the hill sent its scathing shot and shell down upon the bewildered Union ranks. Utter confusion resulted. The cry ran from mouth to mouth, "Our friends are firing upon us,”-nor could they be persuaded otherwise until the dead fell around them like leaves in autumn time. The horses were shot down at their guns, and death was reaping a terrible harvest. It would not have been strange if a panic had ensued under these circumstances among the best drilled troops, but most of these men were just from peaceful homes and had never before been under fire.

The disorderly retreat which now commenced cannot, therefore, be wondered at.