writhing, screaming pile of dying men and horses, and in the heap he
saw the terror-stricken face of a youth, who was shrieking for help;
John carried that fear-distorted face in his memory for years, until
long afterwards it appeared in Sycamore Ridge.

But that day John fled from the death-trap almost mad with fear.
Rushing farther into the woods, he came upon General Lyon and his
staff. The plumed hats of the bodyguard told the boy that the
sandy-haired man before him was in command, though the man's face was
bloody from a wound in his head, and though his clothes were stained
with blood and he was hatless. He sat upright on his horse, and as the
boy turned, he heard the voices of Captain Ward and his soldiers,
begging to be sent into the fight. It was a clamour fierce and
piteous, and the general had turned his head to the Kansans, when
something at the left startled him. There was no firing, and a column
of soldiers was approaching. Doubt paralyzed the group around Lyon for
a moment. The men wore gray blouses strangely like those the Iowans
wore. The men might be Sigel's men, coming back from their artillery
duel. The general plainly was puzzled. He rode out from the bodyguard
a few paces. The boy was staring at him, when the bodyguard with their
gay plumed hats came up, and he saw wrath flash into the general's
face as he recognized the enemy. "Shoot them--shoot them--" he
shouted. But the gray line vomited its smoke first, and the boy felt
his foot afire. The general dropped from his horse, and as the boy
looked down, he saw a red blot coming out on his instep. In the same
instant he saw Captain Ward rush to the falling general, and saw the
bodyguard gather about him, and then the blackness came over the child
and he fell. He did not see them bear General Lyon's body into the
brush, nor hear Ward moan his sorrow. But when Ward returned from the
thicket, he saw the child lying limp on the grass.