The first company were at ease all along the by-road, watching the movements and the struggles of the enemy; and no doubt Captain Dingfield wished he had fought it out, or surrendered on the hard ground. The night was coming on; and even if the Texans extricated themselves from their pitiable condition, they must be so demoralized that they could do no further mischief till they had rested and recruited from the effects of their battle with the mud. "What are them men doin' in there?" asked the farmer, who wandered as far as the causeway, when it was safe to do so, and there encountered Deck, whom he had met before. "They are trying to get out," replied Private Lyon. "They can't do it!" exclaimed the native, who indulged in much profane speech. "They'll make a cemetry of the whole medder. It's nothin' but muck in there till you git to the bottom on't, and that's where them fellers will go. I had a colt git in there, and all on us couldn't git him out; and I reckon his carcass is lyin' on the bottom now. They've sp'ilt my medder," continued the farmer; and he heaped curses on the unfortunate troopers, who were tearing up the soft sod at a fearful rate. The native had picked up the three horses of the troopers who had been killed in the affray, and they were some compensation for the damage done him in the meadow, which looked as though it had been ploughed up. "Isn't there any way for those men to get out of that quagmire?" asked Captain Gordon, as he encountered the farmer. "I don't know o' none," replied the man in a surly tone, "If they was only Yankees, I'd like it better." "I like it better as it is," replied the captain. He knew of no way to extricate the troopers from their plight. It was the dry season of the year, and probably there was less water and less mud than in the wet season. The bodies of the horses seemed to be resting on the sod, with their legs wholly plunged in the soft soil. The riders had dismounted, and attacked two stacks of hay on the field, and were placing it in front of their animals. It afforded a better foundation for them than the oozy turf; and a couple of them were already standing on their legs. The darkness was gathering rapidly, and Captain Gordon gave the order for his men to form in column; and then he marched them out to the hill road. He was satisfied that the Texans would escape from their miserable plight, though it might require many hours for them to accomplish it. They had already begun to build a sort of causeway of the hay, to connect with the solid one by which they had fled from the fight. The hay was of a coarse quality, abundantly mixed with weeds and bushes, and it appeared to be substantial enough to support the horses.