The first months of their service in Mississippi had been tame. The great Federal army which had laid siege to Corinth had been divided, the Army of the Cumberland going east under Buell, and the Army of the Tennessee, under General Grant, remaining in northern Mississippi and western Tennessee. For three months there had been only desultory fighting, no great battles. At the Confederate camp at Baldyn, Mississippi, a group of officers of the Missouri regiments were gathered in a tent, discussing the situation. In the group was Edward Middleton, the son of Alfred Middleton; Randolph Hamilton, brother of Dorothy; and last, but not least, Benton Shelley, a step-brother of Guilford Craig. Edward Middleton had become major of his regiment. He was everywhere regarded as among the bravest and most reliable officers in Price's army. He was a bitter partisan, had the utmost contempt for everything Northern, but withal a noble and chivalric gentleman. He could never forgive Lawrence, whom he had regarded as a brother, for going into the Yankee army; yet after Lawrence had saved his life at the battle of Wilson Creek, and in so doing nearly lost his own, Edward had had a kinder feeling for him. Randolph Hamilton was but little older than Lawrence. He was of a generous nature, fought for the South because he believed the South right, and not from any hatred toward the North. Before the war, he and Lawrence were the closest of friends, and now, although they were fighting on different sides, neither allowed that to interfere with their friendship. Randolph was now captain of his company, and idolized by his men. Benton Shelley was of a different nature. Brave he was, but he had a haughty and cruel disposition, and believed himself to be made of finer clay than the soldiers under him. For this reason he was tyrannical, and was hated by his men as much as Randolph was loved. As for the Yankees, there were no terms too contemptuous for him to apply to them. Toward Lawrence he held undying hatred, and tried in every way to encompass his death. Toward his step-brother, Guilford Craig, he held the same hatred. He frequently boasted how, at the battle of Pea Ridge, he had slain his step-brother, and he always added: "And I'll get that Lawrence Middleton yet. See if I don't. I nearly got him at Wilson Creek, and will not fail the next time." "It seems you did meet him again, Bent," said Randolph, with a sly twinkle in his eye; "but, like the fellow who caught the Tartar, the Tartar had him--not he the Tartar." Benton turned white with rage. "Look here, Captain Hamilton," he exclaimed, furiously, "don't presume on our friendship too much, or I shall demand the satisfaction of a gentleman. You have already thrown that up to me several times. I have told you my horse was shot, and I was lying helpless on the ground, when that cowardly traitor attacked me, and would have murdered me if he had not been stopped by an officer more humane than he."