them back toward a position they had
occupied a quarter of an hour before. In the meantime word had reached
the colonel and Major Truman, and the third battalion came up on a
gallop. A charge all along the line was made, and the Confederate
infantry was placed in full retreat. One company was captured, but the
others took to the stony ground beyond the hemp field, and under cover
of darkness managed to make their way, along with a number of other
troops, to Rutherford Creek. They were hotly pursued by the second and
the third battalions, but the high water in the creek made fording out
of the question, and the Confederates escaped on boats, rafts, and
floating logs.

As brilliant as had been Deck's services during the day, he was not
content to let matters rest as they stood. Feeling that some of the
Confederate forces might still be in the vicinity, he obtained
permission to go on a scouting tour along the creek, taking with him his
companion of many such expeditions, Life Knox. The pair left the camp
quietly, although on horseback, and were soon out of sight and hearing
of their comrades.

"It may be a wild-goose chase," said Deck, referring to what his father
had said concerning the expedition. "But if we return empty-handed,
there will be no harm done."

"Just exactly my way of looking at it, Major," answered Life, to whom
the backwoods manner of talking was now a thing of the past. Deck had
taught him how to speak correctly, and for this the tall Kentuckian was
exceedingly grateful. He often declared that it was Deck who had made
him fit to be an officer under Uncle Sam.

"General Sheridan is bound to uncover the enemy's full force," went on
the major, as he urged Ceph to make a sturdy leap over a strong running
brook. "If we--hullo, what's this?"

He stopped short, as Ceph swerved to one side, almost unseating him.
This movement, on the part of the intelligent horse, was so unusual Deck
knew at once something must be wrong. "What is it, Ceph?" he questioned,
patting the steed on the neck.

For reply the horse turned about and pointed his nose toward the meadow
grass which he had just trodden. The major leaped down and peered into
the semi-darkness.

"A Confederate captain, seriously wounded or dead," he cried to Life.
"Poor fellow, he is hardly more than a boy," he went on, gazing on the
pale, youthful face, along one side of which the blood had flowed and
dried. "Perhaps we can do something for him," and