Callings was right, they were not to stay there much longer. General McClellan had laid his plans for the siege too well. Every battery was in position, the line of defense or attack perfect, and there must come a “break” ere long. It did come, but so silently that the Union troops did not know of it until some time later. Knowing the strength of the enemy, and having kept him at bay for exactly a month, and thus given themselves time to be handsomely re-enforced in the neighborhood of Richmond, the Confederate forces abandoned Yorktown and drew back up the peninsula through Williamsburg. It was on Sunday, May 4th, 1862, that General McClellan and his vast army entered Yorktown and planted the Stars and Stripes upon every breastwork and upon every public building. Bands of music played and cheer after cheer rent the air. But not for long. The Confederates must be pursued, they must not be allowed to escape so easily. At once all of the cavalry and horse artillery were sent in pursuit. It was learned that the Confederates had from six to ten hours’ start of their eager pursuers. “They’re whipped! they’re whipped!” yelled Jerry Rowe, as he marched into Yorktown with the others of the volunteers. “I knew they wouldn’t dare to show fight.” “Look out, there comes a rebel!” shouted Moses Blackwell, in seeming earnestness. He took a hasty step aside, and Jerry ran like mad for the nearest cover. A laugh went up, and the bragging youth did not appear again until the regiment got orders to start for Williamsburg on the double-quick. As usual it was wet--foggy one hour and raining the next, far from an ideal battle day--but this was not ideal, this was real, and so thought Louis as they plunged along over the road swimming in mud--a peculiar, sticky soil, which at times clung to one’s feet like so much glue. The artillery that had gone on ahead was having a fearful time, with horses up to their bodies in the road, cannon nearly out of sight, and teamsters frantic, yelling, cursing, whipping, and then falling back in dumb despair, until extra horses came up to pull all out of the rut. It was as if “the bottom had dropped out of everything,” as Harry Bingham put it. “One consolation, though,” said Nathan Hornsby. “The rebs ain’t got no better road.” “They are ploughing it up for us to wade through,” grumbled Blackwell. “Hang me if I don’t hope we have an engagement soon.” His wish was fulfilled. The Confederates had gone on to where the road from Yorktown joined another running from Lee’s Mill. Here at the fork they had erected a bastioned earth-work, flanked north and south by redoubts, running to the swamps on each side of the dry (or rather, supposed to be dry) ground. A large force was collected behind this shelter, and the cavalry in advance of the Union infantry received a severe fire, which reached plainly to the ears of the Goreville Volunteers. “Hurrah! we’re going to have some warm work at last!” cried Harry Bingham.