"I shall fight, Colonel, and take my chances," replied Al, firmly. "I can't stand by and see the Union flag fired upon without shooting back." "That is the right spirit, my boy," said Colonel Harding. "But be careful, and if you see things going against us, you had better try to get yourself away quietly." "I lived in Glasgow until two years ago, sir," Al answered. "I think I shall be able to manage in case of disaster. Can we get guns? Private Smith, here, is on sick furlough, and my revolver I hid in the boat when we were brought to shore by the guerillas." "Go to the court house and ask the ordnance officer," said the Colonel. "There are thousands of stands of arms there. Good luck to you." He turned and went out and the boys followed immediately, turning however, toward the court house. They were provided, Al with a musket and Wallace with a revolver, as he could use only his right hand. The silence of early morning was brooding over the town as they emerged from the court house, for the watchful troops around could do nothing but wait for the enemy's blow to fall. But as they paused on the sidewalk, the deep boom of a cannon resounded across the river, echoing back from the bluffs, and a second later a shell crashed into the side of a building about half a block away. They could hear the window glass spatter on the ground in a jingling shower. "There goes Joe Shelby's opening gun, if that reb corporal was right," exclaimed Al. "Come on!" Wallace followed him and they ran south toward the bridge on the Boonville road across Gregg's Creek, by which they had come in an hour or so before. At a street corner they encountered three companies of infantry going on the double-quick to the same point, with canteens rattling against their bayonet scabbards. The boys fell in behind the first company and kept on, until the column deployed into line along the creek bank and the men threw themselves on the ground behind bushes or whatever other cover offered. The bridge had been stripped of its plank flooring by the picket guard, and only the bare stringers now remained, offering no footing for an attacking column. "My, but that's hard work, runnin' that way," panted a stout man beside Al. "Wonder what the rebs are doin'?" He raised himself on his elbows and peered ahead.