part of the population of the lower country.  Of these both were shot through the head, and death did not at once relieve them.  They both lay groaning dully.  Jamieson passed them swiftly by.  The tally showed that of the Missourians three had been killed, four badly wounded, besides the slight wound of Dunwody and that of a planter by the name of Sanders, who had been shot through the arm.

Of the boat party, smaller in the first place though well armed, the loss had been slightly less.  Two men had been killed outright and three others badly wounded, of these one, probably, fatally hurt.  To all of these Jamieson ministered as best he might.  The deck was wet with blood.  Silent and saddened spectators, the attacking party stood ranged along the rail on the side next to the shore.  On the opposite side were the sullen defenders.

Carlisle, the leader of the boat party, stood silent, with lips tightly compressed, not far from where Dunwody leaned against the rail.  He made no comment on the scene and was apparently not unused to such spectacles.  Occasionally he bent over, the better to observe the results of the surgeon’s work, but he ventured no comment and indulged in no recriminations.  His slight but erect figure was military now in its formality.  His face was not handsome, but the straight eyes showed fearless.  The brow was strong, the nose straight and firm.  Once he removed his “wideawake” hat and passed a hand through the heavy tangle of his reddish hair.  The face was that of a fanatic.  It was later not unknown in yet bloodier fighting.

The night faded after all, at last.  Along the level of the water’s surface came some glints from the eastern sky.  The horizon paled slightly.  At last a haggard dawn came to light the scene.  The shadows of the willow flat opened, and there lay exposed what now was a coast possessed by embattled forces.

“Captain,” began Dunwody at last, turning to the commander of the boat forces.  “We will be leaving before long.  As to you, you will have to turn back.  You will take your boat down-stream, if you please.”

“It’s not as I please,” rejoined the other.  “You order us back from our journey at your own peril.”

“Why argue the matter?” said Dunwody dully.  “It would do no good.  We’re as much in earnest as you are about it, and we have beaten you.  You belong to the army, but these are not enlisted men, and you’re not carrying out any orders.”

“That part of the argument is plain,” rejoined the young officer.  “But you are mistaken if you think you can order me.  I’m an officer, and I’m on my own way, and I am, therefore, under orders.  I was following a prisoner late in my charge when I fell in with this party bound up the river, to the Kansas front.”

“The courts may take all that up.  This is Missouri soil.”

“It’s no case for courts,” answered the other sternly.  “This will come before the court of God Himself.”