The soldiers thought it was nothing but amusement to drag the wagon out of the mud and haul it to the woods. Sixty men and six mules made comparatively easy work of it. It was nearly dinner-time, and Deck had ordered the meal to be served on the meadow to those that remained there of the escort. During all this time the heavy guns had been thundering in the vicinity of Logan's Cross Roads; and as the day advanced the roar was perceptible nearer, indicating that the enemy had been driven from the first field towards the south. The men proceeded to eat their dinner from their haversacks, while the quartermaster-sergeant had taken rations from the wagon for the portion of the escort that had come over to the woods. As soon as Lieutenant Lyon had given his attention to the needs of his men and horses, he turned to receive the message of the rifleman. Life gave his personal attention to the six mules that had come over, and they were supplied with a very liberal feed of corn and oats. "Lieutenant Butters directs me to report to you that the enemy are returning across the meadow, flying a flag of truce at the head of the column," said the rifleman when Deck indicated that he was ready to hear him; and only a few minutes elapsed while he was giving his orders. "How many men are returning?" asked the lieutenant. "They were too far off for us to count them; but we guessed there were about sixty of them, for they must have lost at least forty in killed and wounded, to say nothing of the latter who were not disabled. Lieutenant Butters wants to know what to do about the flag of truce." "How far off are they now?" asked Deck. "They were some distance beyond the stream when I left, about half an hour ago." "Return to Lieutenant Butters; tell him I will be with him very soon, and ask him to send half his men, good strong fellows, to assist in getting the wagons out of the mire," replied Deck; and the rifleman left in obedience to the order. The men and the animals were all busy with their dinner, and the presence of the lieutenant was no longer necessary for a time. He spoke to his orderly sergeant, who was eating his dinner with the mules, and started for the point, eating the contents of his haversack on the way. On his arrival he found Butters engaged in selecting the men to send over to the assistance of the cavalrymen. "Gittin' wagons out of the mud ain't exactly the work for sharpshooters," growled Butters as Deck approached him. "But I have called for volunteers." "It is the work of soldiers to do whatever is to be done," replied the cavalry officer, who was not pleased with the growl, or the tone in which it had been made. "It is not exactly the work of sharpshooters to work in the mud," returned Butters, apparently unwilling to have his men ordered away from his immediate command.