General Nelson's Scout

"I don't know," answered the officer. "But he is a plucky chap; it's the young lieutenant who headed the last rally of the Rebs. He fought until he was entirely deserted by his men and surrounded by us; he then tried to cut his way out, but his horse was shot and he captured."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Fred. "It must be Calhoun," and he rushed to where the prisoners were confined.

"Calhoun!"

"Fred!"

And the boys were in each other's arms.

"Cal, you don't know how glad I am to see you," exclaimed Fred.

"Bonds and all?" answered Calhoun, with a dash of his old spirits.

"No," said Fred; "like St. Paul, I will say 'except these bonds.' But Calhoun, I must have a good long talk with you in private."

"Not much privacy here, Fred," said Calhoun, looking around at the crowd that was staring at them.

Fred went to General Thomas and told him that his cousin was among the prisoners, and asked permission to take him to his quarters. The permission was readily given, and the boys had the day and night to themselves.

How they did talk, and how much they had to tell each other! First Fred had to tell Calhoun all about himself.

When he had finished Calhoun grasped his hand and exclaimed: "Fred, I am proud of you, if you are fighting with the Yanks. How I would like to ride by your side! But of all your adventures, the one with poor Robert Ferror touches me deepest. Poor fellow! he should have lived. He must have had a great deal of pure gold about him, notwithstanding his cowardly crime."

"He did," sighed Fred, "he did; and yet I can never think of the assassination of Captain Bascom without a shudder. On the other hand, I can never think of Ferror's death without tears. As I think of him now, I am of the opinion that the indignities heaped upon him had, in a measure, unbalanced his mind, and that the killing of Bascom was the act of an insane person. But, Cal, I hate to talk about it; that night of horrors always gives me the shivers. So tell me all about yourself."

"There is not much to tell," answered Calhoun. "You know I left Danville with your father for Bowling Green. Owing to the influence of my father, I was commissioned a second lieutenant and given a place on the staff of Governor Johnson. You know a provisional State government was organized at Bowling Green, and G. M. Johnson appointed Governor. When General Buckner tried to capture Louisville by surprise, and you objected by throwing the train off the track, I was one of the victims of the outrage. I recognized you, just as your father ordered the volley fired."

"My father!" gasped Fred. "My father! did he order that volley fired at me?"

"Yes; but he did not know it was you when he gave the order. When I called out it was you, he nearly fainted, and would have fallen if one of his officers had not caught him. He wanted to resign then and there, but General Buckner would not hear of it. Really, Fred, I think he would have ordered that volley even if he had known you; but if you had been killed, he would have killed himself afterward."

"Poor father!" sighed Fred. "He loves me even if he has disowned me."

"Well," continued Calhoun, "to make a long story short, I became prodigiously jealous of you. You were covering yourself with glory while I was sitting around doing nothing. It was awful dull at Bowling Green. As Zollicoffer appeared to be the only one of the Confederate generals who was at all active, I asked and received permission to join him, where I was given a roving commission as a scout. If I do say it, I made it rather lively for you fellows. At length I hit upon a nice little plan of capturing your pickets, and was quite successful until you found it out and put an end to my fun."

"Calhoun," exclaimed Fred, in surprise, "was it you with whom I had that night fight?"

"It was, and you came near making an end of your hopeful cousin, I can tell you. Out of seven men, I had two killed and four wounded. Only one man and myself escaped unhurt, and I had three bullet holes through my clothes. That put an end to my raids upon your pickets, and I confined myself to scouting once more. Then came that unlucky fight with you in the woods. Fred, I must congratulate you on the way you managed that. Your retreat showed me your exact strength, and I thought I could wipe you off the face of the earth. Your sudden wheel and charge took us completely by surprise, and disconcerted my men. That shot which cut my bridle rein took me out of the fight, and perhaps it was just as well for me that it did. When I came to and found out what had been done, I at once knew you must have been in command of the squad, and if I could I would have hugged you for your generosity."

"Cal," replied Fred, his voice trembling with emotion, "you can hardly realize my feelings when I saw you lying pale and senseless there before me; it took all the fight out of me."

"I know, I know," answered Calhoun, laying his hand caressingly on Fred's shoulder. "I was badly shaken up by that fall, but not seriously hurt. Now, comes the most dangerous of my adventures. When I met you in the road, I – "

"Stop!" broke in Fred, "not another word. Of course you were on one of your scouting expeditions."

A curious look came over Calhoun's face, and then he said, in a low voice: "You are right, Fred; I was on one of my scouting expeditions," and he shuddered slightly.

"Fred," suddenly asked Calhoun, "is there any possible way for me to keep from going to prison?"

"Sometimes prisoners give their parole," answered Fred. "I will see what can be done."

The next morning General Thomas sent for Fred, and said that he was about to send some dispatches to General Buell at Louisville. "And," continued he, "owing to your splendid conduct and the value of the services you have rendered, I have selected you as the messenger. Then, in all probability, it will be very quiet in my front for some time, and General Nelson may have more active work for you. You know," he concluded with a smile, "I only have the loan of you."

Fred heartily thanked the general for the honor bestowed, and then said: "General, I have a great boon to ask."

"What is it?" asked the general, kindly. "If possible I will grant it."

"You know my cousin is here a prisoner. He is more like a brother than a cousin – the only brother I ever knew. The boon I ask is that you grant him a parole."

"Bring him here," said the general.

Calhoun was sent for, and soon stood in the presence of the general.

"An officer, I see," said the general, as he glanced Calhoun over.

"Yes, sir; Lieutenant Calhoun Pennington of Governor Johnson's staff," answered Calhoun, with dignity.

"What were you doing up here if you are one of Johnson's staff?" asked the general.

"I was here on special duty."

"Lieutenant, your cousin has asked as a special favor that you be granted a parole. He says that you reside in Danville, and as he is going to Louisville, he would like to have you accompany him as far as your home."

"General," answered Calhoun, "you would place me under a thousand obligations if you would grant me a parole; but only on one condition, and that is that you effect my exchange as quickly as possible."

The general smiled. "I see," said he, "that you and Shackelford are alike; never satisfied unless you are in the thickest of the fray. I think I can satisfy you."

The parole was made out, and Fred and Calhoun made preparations to start for Danville. Never did two boys enjoy a ride more than they did.

In spite of bad roads and bad weather, the exuberance of their spirits knew no bounds. They were playmates again, without a word of difference between them. As far as they were concerned, the clouds of war had lifted, and they basked in the sunlight of peace.

"I say, Fred," remarked Calhoun, "this is something like it; seems like old times. Why did this war have to come and separate us?"

Fred sighed. "The war, Calhoun," he answered, "has laid a heavier hand on me than on you, for it has made me an outcast from home."

"Don't worry, Fred; it will come out all right," answered Calhoun, cheerily.

On the morning of the second day the boys met with an adventure for which they were not looking. Even as early in the war as this, those roving bands of guerrillas which afterward proved such a curse to the border States began to appear. It was somewhat of a surprise to the boys when four men suddenly rode out of the woods by the side of the road, and roughly demanded that they give an account of themselves.

"By whose authority do you stop us?" indignantly demanded Fred.

"By my authority," answered the leader, with a fearful oath.

"And your authority I refuse to acknowledge," was the hot answer.

"See here, young man, you had better keep a civil tongue in your head," and as the leader said this he significantly tapped the butt of his revolver.

Calhoun here interposed. "What is it you wish?" he asked.

"I wish to know who you are, and where you are going, and that – quick."

"That is easily answered," replied Calhoun. "As you see by my uniform, I am a Confederate officer. I am on parole, and am on my way to my home in Danville, there to wait until I am regularly exchanged."

"A fine story," said the leader. "And I suppose your companion is also in the Confederate service."

"Not at all," replied Fred, quietly. "I am in the service of the United States."

"You are, are you?" sneered the man. "I think both of you are Lincolnites. We will have to search you, and I think in the end shoot you both."

"Here is my parole," said Calhoun, his face growing red with anger.

The man took it, glanced it over, and then coolly tore it in two, and flung it down.

"Any one can carry such a paper as that. Now, climb down in a hurry. We want them horses, and we want you. Boys, it will be fun to try our marksmanship on these youngsters, won't it?" and he turned to his companions with a brutal laugh.

But the guerrillas made a great mistake; they thought they were only dealing with two boys, and were consequently careless and off their guard.

With a sharp, quick look at Calhoun which meant volumes, Fred quickly drew his revolver. There was a flash, a report, and the leader of the guerrillas dropped from his horse. With a startled oath, the others drew their revolvers, but before they could raise them there were two reports so close together as almost to sound as one, and two more of the gang rolled from their horses. The remaining one threw up his hands and began to beg for mercy.

"You miscreant you," exclaimed Calhoun, covering him with his revolver. "I ought to send a ball through your cowardly carcass, to be even with my cousin here; for he got two of you, while I only got one."

"Oh, mercy! mercy!" begged the trembling wretch. "I have a wife and children."

"You have; then so much the worse for the wife and children."

"I am not fit to die," he blubbered.

"That is plain to be seen," answered Calhoun. "Now off that horse!"

The fellow obeyed with alacrity.

"Now hand me your weapons – butts first, remember."

The pistols were handed over.

"Now pick up that parole your leader tore and threw down, and hand it to me."

This was done.

Calhoun sat eyeing him a moment, and then continued: "I ought to shoot you without mercy, but I believe in giving a dog a chance for his life, and so I will give you a chance. You mount your horse, and when I say 'Go,' you go. After I say 'Go' I shall count five, and then shoot. If I miss you, which I don't think I shall, I shall continue shooting as long as you are in range; so the faster you go, the better for you. Now, mount."

The man looked appealingly at Calhoun, but seeing no mercy, mounted his horse as quick as his trembling limbs would let him. His face was white with fear, and his teeth fairly rattled they chattered so.

Calhoun reined his horse around so he was by the fellow's side. Then he shouted "Go!"

The man gave a yell of terror, bent low over his horse's neck and was off like a shot. Calhoun with a chuckle fired over him, and the fellow seemed to fairly flatten out. Four times did Calhoun fire, and at each report the flying horseman appeared to go the faster.

As for Fred, he was convulsed with merriment, notwithstanding the grewsome surroundings.

"Leave these carrion where they are," said Calhoun in response to a question from Fred as to what disposition they should make of the dead. "That live companion of theirs will be back when we are gone."

They rode along in silence for a while, and then Calhoun suddenly said: "Fred, how I wish I could always fight by your side. It's a pity we have to fight on different sides."

"Just what I was thinking of, Cal," answered Fred; "but we have the satisfaction of knowing we have fought one battle together."

"And won it, too," shouted Calhoun.

They reached Danville in due time and without further adventure. To say that Judge Pennington was surprised to see them riding up together would be to express it mildly; he was astounded. Then he had his arms around his boy, and was sobbing, "My son! my son!"

"And Fred, too," said the judge, at last turning from welcoming his son. "I am truly glad to see you, my boy. But how in the world did you two happen to come together?"

And so the whole story had to be told, and the judge listened and wondered and mourned over the defeat of the Confederates at Mill Springs.

"My boy," said the judge, with tears glistening in his eyes, "at least I am glad to know that you did your duty."

"Aye! he did that, uncle," exclaimed Fred. "If all the Confederates had been like Calhoun, we might not have won the victory."

"Unless all the Federals had been like you," responded Calhoun gallantly.

The judge would have both boys tell him the full particulars of their adventures, and listened to their recital with all the pleasure of a schoolboy. But when they were through, he shook his head sadly, and said: "Boys, you can't keep that pace up. You will both be killed. But I am proud of you, proud of you both, if Fred is fighting for that horrible Lincoln."

It was a happy day Fred spent at his uncle's. It seemed like old times. If bitterness was felt towards him it was not shown.

When it was noised about that both Calhoun and Fred had returned, they were besieged with callers. The story of the battle of Mill Springs had to be told again and again. Colonel Fry was one of the influential citizens of the city, and especially were they eager to hear the particulars of his killing General Zollicoffer.

Fred concluded to ride his horse to Louisville, instead of riding to Nicholasville or Lebanon and taking the cars from one of those places.

"I must have Prince wherever I go after this," he said.

"Hello! my boy, is that you?" asked General Nelson, as Fred rode up to his headquarters after a very prosaic journey of three days.

"It is no one else, General," laughed Fred, as he dismounted. "Here I am, here is my good horse, Prince, and here is a letter to you from General Thomas."

Nelson took the letter, read it, and looking up smiling, said: "I see you still keep up your habit of doing something unusual. Thomas speaks in the highest terms of your work. Then you were at Mill Springs?"

"Yes, General."

"Glorious victory! glorious victory! the first real victory we have gained. Did you bring full dispatches with you?"

"Yes, General; I have voluminous dispatches for General Buell. I was so eager to see you I stopped before delivering them."

"Ah, my boy, I believe you do think something of bluff old Nelson after all, even if he has a devil of a temper," and the general kindly patted the boy on the head.

Fred's eyes filled with tears. "You know, General," he said, brokenly, "that you took me in, when my father cast me out."

"For the good of the country, my boy, for the good of the country," said the general brusquely. "But, come, Fred, I will ride over to General Buell's headquarters with you. I would like to see General Thomas' full report of the battle."

They found General Buell in the highest of spirits, and Fred was given a warm welcome. He looked over General Thomas' report, and his whole face beamed with satisfaction. He asked Fred a multitude of questions, and was surprised at the knowledge of military affairs which he showed in his answers.

"I think, General," said General Buell, turning to Nelson, after he had dismissed Fred, "that you have not overestimated the abilities of your protégé. In a private note General Thomas speaks in the highest terms of him. I shall do what you asked."

"Thank you, General," said Nelson. "Somehow I have taken wonderfully to the boy."

What it was General Buell was to do for Fred, that individual was in ignorance.

While in Louisville many of Fred's leisure moments were spent at the hospitable home of the Vaughns. Mabel's betrothed was now at the front, and it was astonishing how much note paper that young lady used in writing to him.

"You don't write that often to your brother," said Fred, smiling.

"My brother?" asked Mabel, looking up in surprise.

"Yes, your humble servant; didn't you adopt me as a brother?"

Mabel burst out laughing. "Oh!" she replied, "one doesn't have to write so often to a brother. Lovers are like babies; they have to be petted. But to change the subject, where does my knight-errant expect to go for his next adventure?"

"I don't know," answered Fred. "Things appear to be rather quiet just now."

But events were even then transpiring that were to take Fred to a different theater of action.