The following day was one of remarkable quiet, and enlistments in the Springfield regiment went on rapidly. During the afternoon, Captain Woods’ Kansas cavalry, with one or two companies of regulars, drove five hundred rebel rangers from the prairie west of the town, capturing eight and killing two men, without loss on their part. At eight o’clock in the evening, General Sigel, with six pieces of artillery and part of Colonel Salomon’s command, moved southward, marching until near two o’clock, and passing around the extreme camp of the enemy, where he halted, ready to press forward as soon as he should be apprised by the roar of General Lyon’s artillery that the attack had begun. The main body, under General Lyon, had moved at the same time, and halted about five miles west of the city, from whence, after resting, they proceeded again about four miles in a south-westerly direction, and slept until 4 A. M. on Saturday, the day of battle. At five o’clock the pickets of the enemy were driven in, and the northern end of the valley, with its thousands of tents and camp-fires, became visible, and this most destructive battle, when the numbers engaged are considered, commenced. The roar of the artillery was terrible,—the rattling of the musketballs was like a storm of great hailstones, and the clash of steel like hammers ringing on countless anvils. Riding forward in the thick of the fight, his war-horse bearing him more proudly than usual that fatal day, General Lyon performed the work of a dozen heroes. A stern sadness was on his face—a resolute fire burned in the gray depths of his eyes. Twice was he wounded, leading on his men, and his war-steed fell under him, pierced to the heart with a bullet. Those who loved him grew anxious for his safety, for there was something wonderful in the steady courage that made him forget the wounds that would have driven another man from the field. A member of his staff approached him as he stood by his dead horse, and seeing blood upon his forehead, asked if he was hurt. “I think not seriously,” he answered; and mounting another horse, he plunged again into the terrible melee. At one time, when the whirlwind of battle was at its height, General Lyon desired his men to prepare for a charge, and the Iowans at once volunteered to go, and asked for a leader. On came the enemy, crushing in their strength, and there was no time for choice. “I will lead you,” exclaimed the impetuous and fearless General. “Come on, brave boys,” said he, as he took his position in the van, while General Sweeney prepared to lead on a portion of the Kansas troops, and the serried ranks of glittering deadly steel resistlessly moved on.