We will follow for the time being the fortunes of Andy. With Louis’s disappearance the Southern youth discovered that a fresh body of Union soldiers had come up to reinforce the Goreville Volunteers, who were now all but exhausted to a man. He was pleased to note this, as the idea of fighting even against the company to which his chum belonged was distasteful to him. The Grays were ordered to charge the men who were holding the defense, and away they dashed, with two other cavalry companies beside them. This charge was bravely met, and once again Andy found himself in a hand-to-hand fight. This did not last more than five minutes, when the Union soldiers were seen to part, to let through a battery of two cannons, both twelve-pounders. As quickly as possible the battery was placed in position, the rear guard of the Union men meanwhile protecting the pieces. Then away went the Northern troops to the right and left, and the order was given for the Grays to retreat. The order came none too soon, for when the cannons blazed forth the aims of the gunners were found so correct that eight horsemen and six animals were laid low. The Union battery remained where it was for over an hour, when the general retreat of the Union troops began. The line of battle had originally been nearly eight miles long, but now it was so broken and disorganized that the fighting became general upon all sides, although the heaviest attacks were still made in the vicinity of the hill before mentioned. The exhaustion in the hot sun was terrible, and many of the soldiers had not had time to eat a mouthful since early morning. Some of the poor fellows, unable to carry the load, had thrown away their knapsacks, and they now ran around begging for a mouthful of something with which to brace themselves up. It was their first awakening to the stern reality of grim war. “If ever I git back to old New York ag’in,” wailed a Bowery boy, who had enlisted for three months with the idea that going down South to whip the “rebs” would be “nothin’ but sport, boys, nothin’ but sport.” He wanted to see no more of the war,--and he had his counterpart everywhere, on both sides. One dandy from Richmond who had enlisted also for “sport” was heard to exclaim that henceforth “the big guns can fight for themselves. I’ll be jiggered if I’ll do it for them,” meaning that, as far as he was concerned, the politicians and others who had precipitated the conflict could end it among themselves.