It was a new life for Jack and Harry, and they greatly enjoyed it. Both declared that they slept more comfortably on the ground than they had formerly slept in bed, and as for the distance accomplished in a day's march it was nothing to them. They cheerfully gave up their places in the wagons to some of the footsore soldiers, and trudged along behind the vehicles as merry as larks.

There was very little danger to be apprehended on the march, although they were technically in the enemy's country. In the part of Missouri north of the river of the same name, there were a few straggling bands of state troops under the command of General John B. Clark, but nothing like a disciplined force that could offer resistance to a well-equipped regiment like the First Iowa. Whenever the regiment approached a town or village, most of the secessionists fled in dismay, after spreading terrible stories of the atrocities that the invaders would be sure to commit as soon as they arrived. Those that remained were no doubt greatly surprised at the good order that prevailed and the perfect respect shown to private property. Everything required for the use of the soldiers was fully paid for, and instead of bewailing the visit of the invaders, many of the citizens, even those whose sympathies were not with the Union, hoped they would come again. Later in the war things changed a good deal in this respect, as we shall see further on in our story.

One town through which the regiment passed, and where it halted for one day and a part of another to wait orders for further movements, was reputed to be one of the worst nests of secession in that part of the state.

There was a hotel in the town, and its owner had recently, so Jack learned from a boy of about his age with whom he established friendly relations, given it the name of the Davis House, in honor of the President of the Southern Confederacy. Jack informed the soldiers of this discovery, and an examination of the front of the building showed that the former name of the hotel had been painted out to make a place for the new one.

Immediately a pot of white paint and one of black were procured, a rough staging was erected, the word “Davis” was painted out, and “Union” took its place. The proprietor protested, but his protest was of no use. He was told that the Union House would be much more popular than the Davis House could be by any possibility, and when they came around again they expected to find the new name retained. The proprietor said his neighbors would burn the building over his head if he allowed it to remain as it was, and as soon as the regiment had gone he set about changing the obnoxious appellation. But he showed some worldly wisdom in giving it a new name altogether instead of restoring what might have brought him into trouble with future visitors of the kind he had just had. He avoided both “Davis” and “Union,” and called the establishment the “Missouri Hotel,” a name at which neither side could take offense.

The boy who told Jack about the hotel also informed him where a rebel flag was concealed. It had been made by several young women whose sympathies were with the southern cause, and was intended for presentation to the captain of a company which would soon leave the county to fight on the southern side.

Jack hastened to Captain Herron, one of the officers of the regiment, and told what he had heard. The captain sent a detail of soldiers, under the guidance of Jack, who led the way to the house of one of the principal inhabitants of the place.

The sergeant in command of the squad of soldiers rapped at the door, which was opened by a servant. He asked for the lady of the house, and very soon a comely matron of forty or more stood before him.

“We beg your pardon for disturbing you,” said the sergeant; “but we want a rebel flag that we are told has been made here recently.”

“You shan't come into my house,” was the angry reply; “and we've no flag for you Yankees.”

She was about to close the door in the sergeant's face, but the latter stopped her from so doing by stepping forward and holding it open. Then he ordered his men to follow him, which they did, accompanied by Jack.

“Be kind enough to show us through the house,” said the sergeant; “we don't want to trouble you, but we must have that flag.”

“If you are after a flag you won't find any,” she answered; “and as for showing a lot of Yankees through the house, I won't.”

The sergeant ordered one man to stay at the front door and another at the rear, “and permit nobody to leave the house.” Then he called the servant, a negro woman, who had opened the door, and ordered her to show the way through the rooms. Accustomed to obedience, the woman did as she was told, her mistress being so overcome with rage that she did not endeavor to exercise her authority over the servant.

Jack had told the sergeant that the flag was hidden between the sheets of a bed in the first sleeping-room at the head of the stairs; consequently that was the room which the sergeant intimated he would like to see first.

The room was found and so was the bed, but no flag. The bed showed signs of very recent disturbance, as though something had been withdrawn from it. Evidently the flag had been taken away during the parley at the door. The room was searched in every part, but no sign of the flag was found; then other rooms were examined, but with the same result.

The soldiers went through the entire house, the sergeant giving them strict orders to search everywhere, but at the same time to injure nothing. Just as they were about to give up the enterprise as a bad job, a brilliant thought occurred to Jack.

He mounted the stairs again and went straight to the bed which had first been the object of their examination. Pulling down the bed-clothes, which had been left in a disordered condition after the investigation of the soldiers, he found the desired flag and bore it in triumph to the sergeant.

Original Size

Then the sergeant withdrew his men, after again apologizing to the mistress of the house, who was so angry that she could not, or would not, speak. On the way back to camp the sergeant asked Jack how it was he knew the flag was where he found it.

“I sort o' guessed it,” replied Jack. “I noticed that the woman and her two daughters did n't stay with us while we were rummaging the house, but kept going in and out of the rooms, leaving the servant to show us around.

“I thought they were up to something, especially as one of the daughters did n't show up at all while we were talking at the door before we went in.

“Now, I figured out that while we were talking with the old gal the young one we did n't see was taking the flag out of the bed and hiding it somewhere else. When they saw us at the door they knew what we'd come for, and probably guessed we 'd been told where the flag was.

“Well, after we'd looked through that bed and all the room without finding anything, we went on to the next room. They knew we 'd hunt high and low for the flag, and go through every part of the house. Now, if you'd a-been in their place what would you have done, when you knew you could n't get out of the house without being seen?”

“I see it now,” said the sergeant, “though I did n't before. I'd have watched my chance by going round through the halls, and put the flag in one of the places that had been searched, and there would n't have been any better place than the bed where we first went for it.”

“That's just what I thought,” said Jack in reply; “and when I saw the old gal give a wink to the young one and the young one winked back again, it just occurred to me to go to the bed and have another look.”

“You'd make a good detective,” said the sergeant approvingly, and then the conversation turned to the flag they had captured and the probable use that would be made of it.

“That's for the captain to say,” replied the sergeant in reply to Jack's query.

The sergeant turned the flag over to the captain and the latter duly admired it and praised Jack for his acuteness. The secession emblem was a fine one, being made of the best bunting procurable in St. Louis, whence the material was specially ordered. It was the regular secession flag, the “Stars and Bars,” and was intended to be displayed on the battlefield, where the rebels confidently hoped to put the defenders of the Union to flight at the first fire. Along the center of the flag the following couplet had been deftly embroidered by the fingers of the young ladies by whom the banner was made, and the lines were said to have been the composition of the maiden who so signally failed in concealing the precious standard from the search of the invaders:

Jack suggested that they should have added the following quotation from Robert Burns, as a suitable intimation of thee possibilities in the case: