We expected to pick up one or two of the wounded men into my wagon on our way back,” said Harry, “but found we did n't have to. The other wagons had followed close behind us, and gathered up all who could n't walk or take care of themselves. Some of the country people were out looking after them, too, and by this time everybody ought to be cared for in some way. But, of course, there 'll be a great deal of suffering under the best of circumstances, as there is a great number of wounded men on both sides.” And Harry was right; there was a great number of wounded in proportion to the number of men engaged. It has been said by students of warfare that down to that time there had never been in the United States a battle in which the proportion of casualties was as great as at Wilson's Creek, and without stopping to examine the histories of all previous battles this is a safe assertion. Let us look at the figures:

The total of the Union forces was not far from five thousand four hundred, including officers and men. They lost in the battle two hundred and fifty-eight killed, eight hundred and seventy-three wounded, and one hundred eighty-six missing, a total of casualties of one thousand three hundred and seventeen; or, deducting the missing, we have of killed and wounded on the field of Wilson's Creek, one thousand one hundred and thirty-one, or more than one in five of all who were present; and it is generally considered by military men that where the killed and wounded are one-tenth of the total on the field the battle is a severe one.

The rebel reports place their effective force on the tenth of August at ten thousand one hundred and seventy-five, of which two hundred and seventy-nine were killed and nine hundred and fifty-one wounded, a total of one thousand two hundred and thirty, or about one man in nine of the whole force. Even this was a heavy loss, but much smaller in proportion when compared with that of General Lyon's army.

Colonel Blair's regiment, the First Missouri, had seven hundred and twenty-six men under arms when it went into battle. Its loss was three hundred and thirteen, or almost one-half its entire number. Seventy-seven of its men were killed, ninety-three dangerously wounded, one hundred and twenty-six otherwise wounded, two were captured and fifteen were missing at the next roll-call. The First Kansas lost two hundred and ninety-six men out of seven hundred and eighty-five; the Second Kansas, the First Iowa, and in fact all the other regiments on the field lost severely, but not as heavily in proportion as did the First Missouri and the First Kansas.

Another notable circumstance of the battle was the large number of those engaged in it under Lyon who afterward rose to high rank. From that little army eight officers rose to be major-generals before the end of the war, and thirteen to be brigadier-generals. Many of the men who fought in the ranks became captains, majors and colonels. In 1863 thirty-two commissioned officers were in the service from one company of the First Iowa, and twenty-eight from one company of the First Missouri. And through all the noble records they made during the war for the preservation of the Union, one of their proudest boasts was, “I was at Wilson's Creek with Lyon.”

Among those who rose to be major-generals were Schofield, Stanley, Steele, Granger, Sturgis, Herron, Sigel and Osterhaus; while of the brigadier-generals were Carr, Plummer, Halderman, Mitchell, Dietzler, Sweeney, Totten, Clayton and Gilbert. Some of these officers covered themselves with glory in subsequent campaigns, and their names are familiar to the veterans of the war and will live in the history of the country.

All this, time we have left Jack and Harry talking about the battle, and particularly about the experience of the latter in accompanying the flag of truce.

Their conversation was cut short by an order to be in readiness to move at any moment. Evidently this meant that the army was to abandon Springfield, which it could hardly hope to hold for any length of time after the result of the day's fighting.

“If they 'll allow us,” said Jack, “we'll keep our wagons close together and help each other all we can.”

“Of course we will,” was the prompt reply. “We shall probably follow our regiment, unless the train gets mixed up on the road and the wagons are scattered.”

“I don't know much about it,” said Jack, “but it seems to me that the rebs could make it very lively for us if they wanted to. Here we've got a long train of wagons, we're a hundred and thirty miles from the end of the railway, and there's a river to cross on the way, besides lots of small streams and miles of woods, where they could drop on us at any time before we knew they were there.”

“Anyway, we 'll hope for the best,” responded Harry, “and see how things turn out. Wonder who's to command the army now that General Lyon's dead?”

“I don't know. We'll find that out, though, pretty soon.”

Before the march began they ascertained that the retreat was to be conducted by General Sigel. Major Sturgis, who had assumed command immediately after Lyon's death, refused to hold it longer, on the ground that General Sigel's commission in the volunteer service was superior to his own as a major in the regular army. Accordingly General Sigel assumed command with the assent of all the regular officers, and ordered a retreat to Rolla.

Had the rebels chosen to give trouble they could have given a great deal. The road to Rolla was none of the best. It was crowded with the wagons of Union men who were fleeing in terror at the threatened approach of the rebels, and the army had a train of wagons nearly five miles long to encumber its movements. If the rebels had attacked it on the road, they would have had a great advantage over the soldiers who had been defeated at Wilson's Creek. Brave as these men were, a defeated army is never as good at fighting as one that has not suffered in that way.

But the retreating army was not molested, and in five days it had crossed the Gasconade river and was in a place of safety. As soon as it had passed the Gasconade Major Sturgis discovered that he was really the ranking officer, owing to the expiration of Sigel's commission, or some technicality concerning it, and therefore he demanded the command.

Sigel was disinclined to yield it then, but rather than have trouble he did so, though had he foreseen the result it is quite probable that he would have refused. The commanding officer was entitled to write the report of the battle, and accordingly the report was written by Major Sturgis. At that time there was a great deal of ill-feeling on the part of many of the regular officers toward the volunteers. They looked with contempt, often undisguised, upon the soldiers who had come from civil pursuits or had not made military matters the occupation of their lives. This feeling gradually wore away, though it was never entirely obliterated, but in the early part of the war there was much more of it than was good for the service.

General Lyon had none of this feeling, but this was far from being the case with the regular officers under him. And their contempt for volunteers was especially strong toward the Germans. They had few good words for the Teutons who wore the blue, especially when those Teutons were commissioned officers.

General Sigel, having brought the column from its perilous position at Springfield to a point where it was out of danger, certainly deserved to have something to say about the official report, especially when that report placed upon him the responsibility for the defeat of the Union forces and the victory of the rebels. It should be remarked that the official reports do not show any loss in killed and wounded on the part of the two companies of regular cavalry that accompanied Sigel in the battle of Wilson's Creek, though four men are reported missing from one of those companies. With the exception of these four missing men all the loss of Sigel's column was borne by his infantry and artillery, all volunteers and nearly all Germans.

At daybreak on the morning of the eleventh of August the head of the retreating army marched out of Springfield in the direction of Rolla and the rising sun. Five miles from Springfield there is a road coming in from the direction of Wilson's Creek, and it was feared that the rebels might have pushed on a force during the night to contest the passage of the fugitives beyond this point. Had they done so, the great wagon-train would certainly have been in peril.

But no enemy appeared, and there was an agreeable disappointment on the part of many of those in retreat. To none was this more the case than to Harry and Jack, who did not relish the idea of losing their wagons and the property in their charge. Somehow the horses and mules seemed to catch the spirit of retreat and to feel that they were in danger. One of the drivers declared that he had never known them to pull half as earnestly as they did on the first day out of Springfield. He was sure they were solid for the Union and did n't want to fall into Johnny Reb's hands.

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All along the road there was the wildest alarm among the inhabitants who had espoused the Union cause. They felt that their lives would be in peril as soon as the army had passed, and many of them had already packed their wagons and were fleeing toward Rolla with whatever household goods they could carry away. They abandoned homes and farms, everything that they were unable to carry, and the spectacle presented by these fleeing refugees was a pathetic one. They filled the road both in front of and behind the army, and for weeks and weeks afterward a steady stream of them poured into the Union lines. We shall have more to say about these unfortunates by and by.

At last, after many trials and tribulations, the disheartened and weary army was encamped at Rolla, where the welcome whistle of the locomotive resounded through the air. The campaign of the southwest was ended, and the footsore warriors had an opportunity to gain the rest they so greatly needed.

Jack and Harry parked their wagons with the rest of the train, and wondered what would happen next.

“We've had a lively time of it, Jack,” said Harry; “but I'm not sorry we came.”

“Nor I either,” was the reply; “and I'm in no hurry to go home. Let's wait here awhile and see what's going to turn up.”

This was agreed to, and they sat down to wait.