But there was little use of trying to raid the road south of Bowling Green, for it was guarded by thousands of men. To cripple the road effectually meant another raid clear through the state of Kentucky. To this General Morgan was not averse.

When his men heard that another raid was to be made into Kentucky, their enthusiasm knew no bounds. What cared they for the dangers to be encountered, for long rides, for sleepless nights, and the tremendous fatigue they would be called upon to endure? They were to stir up the Yankees once more; that was enough.

"Kentucky! Ho, for Kentucky!" was their cry, and they shouted and sang until they could shout and sing no longer for want of breath.

Bragg was fully alive to the importance of the expedition, and was willing to give Morgan all the troops he could possibly spare. Morgan was soon at the head of the most formidable force he had ever commanded. It consisted of over three thousand cavalry, with a full battery, besides his own light battery.

The task which had been assigned him was indeed a perilous one. It was to ride almost to the very gates of Louisville, and to destroy the immense trestle works at Muldraugh Hill. This done, the Louisville and Nashville Railroad would again be effectually crippled for weeks.

He set out from Alexandria, on December 22, and in two days he was in Glasgow, Kentucky. The citizens of Glasgow had come to look upon Morgan as a monthly visitor by this time; therefore they were not surprised at his coming. Here he met with the first Federal force, which was quickly scattered.

Remaining in Glasgow only long enough to rest his horses, he pushed on for Mumfordsville, where the great bridge spans the Green River. But learning that the place was held by so strong a force that it would be madness for him to attack it, he passed a few miles to the right, and struck the railroad at Bacon Creek. Here a stout block-house, defended by ninety soldiers, guarded the bridge. They put up a stout defence in hopes of being reinforced from Mumfordsville, but at last were compelled to surrender, the block-house being knocked to pieces by Morgan's artillery.

Burning the bridge and destroying four miles of road, the command moved on to Nolan, where another block-house was captured and a bridge burned. This was the third time that these bridges had been destroyed by Morgan.

Elizabethtown was the next goal to be reached. As they approached the place, Calhoun, who was in advance with his scouts, was met by an officer bearing a flag of truce, who handed him a dirty envelope, on which was scrawled:



ELIZABETHTOWN, KY., December 27, 1862. To the Commander of the Confederate Force.

Sir: I demand an unconditional surrender of all of your forces. I have you surrounded, and will compel you to surrender.

I am, sir, your obedient servant, H. S. SMITH, Commanding U. S. Force.



"Well," exclaimed Calhoun, as he glanced at it, "I have often been told that Yankees have cheek, but this is the greatest exhibition of it I have met. Who is H. S. Smith, anyway?"

"One of the numerous Smith family, I reckon," dryly responded one of his men. "He should have signed it John Smith. This would have concealed his identity, and prevented us from knowing what a fool he is."

But the message was taken back to Morgan, and Calhoun never saw him laugh more heartily than when he read it.

"Go back and tell Mr. Smith," replied Morgan, trying to keep his face straight, "that he has made a little mistake. It is he who is surrounded, and must surrender."

The message was taken back, but Mr. Smith answered pompously that it was the business of United States officer to fight, not to surrender.

"Very good," replied Calhoun, "get back and let us open the ball."

It took only a few shells from Morgan's battery to convince Mr. Smith he had made a mistake, and that it was the business of at least one United States officer to surrender, and not to fight. Six hundred and fifty-two prisoners fell into Morgan's hands, also a large quantity of military stores. The stores were destroyed. At Elizabethtown Morgan was in striking distance of the object of his expedition, the great trestles at Muldraugh Hill. There were two trestles, known as the upper and lower, both defended by stout stockades.

General Morgan divided his forces, Colonel Breckinridge with one brigade attacking the lower stockade, while Morgan with Colonel Duke's brigade attacked the upper. A couple of hours of severe shelling convinced the commanders of these stockades also that it was the duty of a United States officer to surrender, and not to fight. Seven hundred more prisoners and an immense store of military goods were added to Morgan's captures. The goods, as usual, were destroyed.

It was but a few minutes after the surrender of the block-houses when the trestles were a mass of flames. They were immense structures, each nearly fifteen hundred feet long, and from eighty to ninety feet high. Thus the object of the expedition had been gained. Again the Louisville and Nashville Railroad was rendered useless to Rosecrans's army.

But Morgan's danger had just commenced. Thus far he had had his own way. The enraged Federals were moving heaven and earth to compass his capture. A brigade was transported from Gallatin to Mumfordsville by rail, joined to the force at that place, and ordered to move east and cut off his retreat. The forces in Central Kentucky were ordered to concentrate at Lebanon. Thus they hoped to cut off every line of retreat.

"Don't let Morgan escape," was the command flashed to every Federal officer in Kentucky.

From Muldraugh Hill Morgan marched for Bardstown. This led him across the Lebanon Railroad. Before all of his force had crossed the Rolling Fork of Salt River, the pursuing force, under Colonel Harlan, came up and engaged the rear. The rear guard under Colonel Duke gallantly resisted them until all had crossed in safety, but during the action Colonel Duke was severely wounded by a piece of shell. General Boyle, the Federal commander at Louisville, gave out that he had died of his wounds and there was great rejoicing. But the gallant Colonel lived, to the disappointment of his enemies.

The Federals, in close pursuit, left Morgan little time to destroy the railroad leading to Lebanon, but he captured a stockade, and burned the bridge at Boston. Reaching Bardstown in safety, he pushed rapidly on to Springfield. From that place he could threaten either Danville or Lebanon. His rapid movements puzzled the Federals, and prevented them from concentrating their forces, for they knew not which way he would go next.

From Springfield Morgan turned south, leaving Lebanon a few miles to his left, so as to avoid the large force at that place; he reached New Market a few hours in advance of his pursuers. To avoid the troops which had been concentrating at Hodgensville, he now took the road to Campbellsville.

In going through the Muldraugh range of hills to the south of New Market, his rear guard was struck by the advance of the Federals under Colonel Hoskins, and was only beaten back after a lively fight. There was now more or less skirmishing for some miles.

There now happened to Calhoun one of the most thrilling adventures he experienced during the whole war. As the post of danger was now in the rear, he was there with his scouts doing valiant service in holding back the Federals. There had been no skirmishing for some time, and nothing had been seen or heard of their pursuers. Not thinking of danger, he and a Captain Tribble halted their horses by the side of a bubbling spring and dismounted to get a drink, the rest of the guard passing on. They lingered longer than they thought, and had just remounted their horses when they were suddenly surprised by three horsemen, who came galloping up, yelling to them to surrender. For Calhoun and Tribble to snatch their revolvers and fire was the work of a moment. The Federals returned the fire. A pistol duel now took place, and both sides emptied their revolvers, but strange to say, no one was hurt.

Throwing down their now useless weapons, all drew their swords and furiously spurred their horses on to the combat. It was almost like a mediaeval contest, where knight met knight with sword only. While one of the Federals engaged Captain Tribble, two rode straight for Calhoun, the foremost a fine-looking man in the uniform of a Federal colonel. Parrying his blow, Calhoun, by a skilful turn of his horse, avoided the other. They wheeled their horses, and came at Calhoun again. Again did Calhoun parry the fierce blow aimed at him; at the same time he managed to prick the horse of the other, so that for a moment it became unmanageable. This left Calhoun free to engage the Colonel alone, who aimed at him a tremendous blow. This blow Calhoun avoided, and as it met with no resistance, its force threw the Colonel forward on his saddle. As quick as lightning, the point of Calhoun's sword reached his heart, and the combat was over.



During this time Tribble had vanquished his antagonist. The remaining Federal, seeing one of his comrades dead and the other a prisoner, threw down his sword and surrendered. The dead officer proved to be Colonel D. J. Halisy of the Sixth Kentucky cavalry.

This conflict was long remembered as one of the most remarkable ever engaged in by any of Morgan's men, and Calhoun was warmly congratulated by the whole command on his prowess.

The death of Colonel Halisy seemed to dampen the enthusiasm of Morgan's pursuers. Although they followed him to Campbellsville, and from Campbellsville to Columbia, the pursuit was a feeble one. In fact, so timid was Colonel Hoskins that he ordered his advance not to engage Morgan if they found him at Columbia, but to wait for the column from Hodgensville to come up. From Columbia all pursuit ceased, and Morgan was left to return to Tennessee at his leisure.

While at Columbia Morgan reports that his men heard distinctly the sound of distant cannonading away to the southwest. To their accustomed ears it told of a battle raging. It was the thunder of Rosecrans's cannon at Stone River. Little did Morgan's men think at that time that that distant thunder meant that hundreds of their brave brothers were being slaughtered in that fatal charge of Breckinridge. Murfreesboro is, as the crow flies, a hundred and eighteen miles from Columbia. In no other battle during the war is it reported that cannonading was heard so far.

From Columbia Morgan proceeded by easy stages to Smithville, Tennessee, which he reached January 5, just fourteen days after he had started on his raid from Alexandria. During this time his command had travelled fully six hundred miles. This raid was one of the most remarkable Morgan ever made, when we consider what he accomplished, and the number of troops that tried in vain to capture him. Riding within a few miles of thousands of men, he easily eluded all his pursuers and escaped almost scot free.

General Morgan, in summing up the results of this raid, says: "It meant the destruction of the Louisville and Nashville Railroad from Mumfordsville to Shephardsville within eighteen miles of Louisville, rendering it impassable for at least two months; the capture of eighteen hundred and seventy-seven prisoners, including sixty-two commissioned officers; the destruction of over two million dollars' worth of United States property, and a large loss to the enemy in killed and wounded. The loss of my entire command was: killed, 2; wounded, 24; missing, 64."

It seems impossible that so much could be accomplished with so slight a loss. The number of his killed and wounded shows that the Federals touched him very gingerly; that they did not force the fighting. In the capture of the stockades in which he took so many prisoners, Morgan suffered hardly any loss, as he forced the surrender with his artillery. But the joy which Morgan and his men felt over the success of the raid was clouded when they reached Tennessee by the news of the result of the battle of Stone River. Murfreesboro no longer belonged to the South. Bragg had retreated to his new line along Duck River.



CHAPTER XII.

A SPY! A SPY!

For nearly six months after the battle of Stone River, the Federal army made no general advance. General Rosecrans made his headquarters at Murfreesboro, while Bragg's was at Tullahoma. But these months were not months of idleness. Almost daily skirmishes took place between the lines, and there were a number of contests which arose to the dignity of battles.

Morgan's cavalry protected the right of Bragg's army. His headquarters were nominally at MacMinnville, but it could truly be said they were in the saddle. Morgan did not stay long in any one place. A number of expeditions were made against him, sometimes with a whole division, but he managed to elude them with slight loss.

Only twice during all this time did severe reverse overtake him—once at Milton, when he failed in his efforts to capture a brigade of infantry, and again at Snow Hill, when he was charged by a whole division of cavalry under the leadership of General David Stanley.

His captures of scouting and forage parties were numerous during these months, and he added a long list of prisoners to those he had already captured. But so strongly was every place held, and so numerous had become the Federal cavalry, it was impossible to make any large capture. The enemy had learned by bitter experience, that eternal vigilance was their only safety in guarding against Morgan, and the troops which held the left of Rosecrans's army were always in fear. No Federal soldier was safe half a mile outside the lines. Bitterly did many sleepy soldiers curse him, for at three o'clock every morning they were forced to get up and stand at arms until broad daylight. The Federal officers wanted no more surprises. But in spite of all their vigilance, Morgan would swoop down and carry off prisoners from under their very noses.

These months were busy ones for Calhoun; he and his scouts were always on the go. At the battle of Milton he greatly distinguished himself, and was the subject of a complimentary order. But during the battle he received a slight flesh wound in the arm and the ball came from the rear. Again was Conway behind him. The thought that he might be slain in this treacherous manner was distracting, but what could he do? He durst not complain; such a monstrous charge against a brother officer would have to be substantiated by the best of proof. He could only avoid Conway as much as possible during battle, and hope for the best. After the battle at Milton, by reason of losses in the regiment, Conway was promoted, being appointed major. It was fortunate for Calhoun that he was chief of scouts, and on Morgan's staff, or Conway would have made his life a burden, for he was a member of the regiment of which Conway was major.

One day Calhoun, being sent on special duty over to the left of Bragg's army, found himself in Columbia. He now remembered what Captain Haines had told him of the misfortunes which had befallen the Osbornes, and he determined to visit them. As he approached the place a sigh escaped him, for the plantation no longer was blooming like a rose, and the splendid mansion house was a charred mass of ruins.

He found the family living in a small house which once had been occupied by the overseer. Their story was soon told. After Lieutenant Haines had been exchanged, he came back and was stationed at Columbia. He visited them frequently, was very attentive to Miss Osborne, and at last asked her to become his wife. He was very politely but firmly refused. He now began a series of petty persecutions, and was forbidden the house as a guest. Then he began to threaten. He reported to the commander that Osborne's house was the headquarters of a gang of guerrillas which gave the Federal authorities in Columbia and Pulaski a great deal of trouble.

About this time the murder of General Robert McCook by guerrillas greatly angered the Federals. A few days after he was killed a couple of foragers from Columbia were found dead. Lieutenant Haines lost no time in reporting that the gang of guerrillas sheltered by Osborne had murdered the men. A party was sent out, who burned the house, took away everything of value in the shape of stock, and arrested Mr. Osborne, who was afterwards sent North as a prisoner.

Calhoun listened to the recital with flashing eyes. "The villain!" he exclaimed; "if I had only known this he would not have escaped so easily when we captured him at Gallatin."

"That is not all," continued Mrs. Osborne, in a broken voice. "After all this had happened, the scoundrel had the effrontery to renew his suit, and say if Emma would marry him he would see that Mr. Osborne was released; that he had powerful political friends who could accomplish this. We spurned his proposition as it deserved. I knew my husband would rather rot in prison than consent to such a monstrous thing."

"Oh! had I known! had I known!" exclaimed Calhoun, pacing up and down the room in his excitement; "but we may meet again."

Little did Calhoun think that before many days they would meet again, and that that meeting would nearly mean for him the ignominious death of a spy. A few days after his return from Columbia, he asked the permission of Morgan to visit Nashville. "I would like to see," said he, "what our friends, the enemy, are doing in that city."

Morgan shook his head. "I don't want to see you hanged," he replied.

But Calhoun argued so zealously, that at last Morgan's scruples were overcome, and he gave his consent, but added, "If you should be captured and executed, I would never forgive myself."

Calhoun looked upon it as a mere holiday affair; he had passed through too many dangers to be terrified. Taking half a dozen of his trusty scouts with him, he had no trouble in reaching the Cumberland River a few miles above Nashville. The few scouting parties of the enemy they met were easily avoided. He ordered his scouts to remain secreted in a thick wood near by a friendly house, from which they could obtain food for themselves and provender for their horses.

"If I am not back in three days," said he, "return to Morgan, and tell him I have been captured."

His men pleaded with him to let at least one of them accompany him, but this he refused, saying it would but add to his danger.

From the gentleman who resided in the nearby house he secured a skiff which had been kept secreted from the lynx-eyed Federals. In this Calhoun proposed to float down to Nashville.

Night came dark and cloudy. It was just such a night as Calhoun wished. Clad in a suit of citizen's clothes, and with muffled oars, he bade his comrades a cheerful good night, and pushed out into the river, and in a moment the darkness had swallowed him up. He floated down as noiselessly as a drifting stick.

In an hour's time the lights of Nashville came in view; the dangers of his trip had just commenced. He knew that the banks of the river would not only be strongly patrolled, but the lights from the shore and from the steamers moored at the wharfs shone across the stream in places, making it impossible for an object the size of his boat to pass without being noticed.

But Calhoun was prepared for just such an emergency. He was a capital swimmer, and had no fears of the water. He had weighted his skiff with stones, bored a hole in the bottom, and filled it with a plug which could easily be removed. When he had drifted as far as he dared, he removed the plug. The skiff gradually filled and at last sank. If any person had looked after it disappeared, all he would have seen would have been the small branch of a tree, covered with leaves, floating down with the current.

When Calhoun was well down abreast of the city, and coming to a place where shadows covered the river, he turned toward the bank. Fortunately he landed near a dark alley which led down to the water. Listening intently, he heard nothing, and making his way up the alley, he soon came to a street. A violent storm came on, which was of advantage to him, for if he met any one, it would account for his dripping clothes. It also had the effect of driving the patrol guards into shelter.

Calhoun was no stranger in the city. He had visited it frequently when a boy, for he had an uncle residing there, now a colonel in the Confederate army. But his family still resided in the old home, and he knew that there he would find a haven of safety. Carefully making his way, and dodging the few guards that he met, he soon reached the house. The yard was inclosed with a high iron fence, the pickets provided with sharp points. But Calhoun had been in the army too long to be baffled by any such obstacle. He mounted the fence with but little trouble and dropped down into the yard.

Making his way to the rear of the house, he found refuge in a small shed. The night had turned cool and he shivered with the cold. But he durst not arouse the household, for the alarm might be heard outside. The hours passed wearily by, but at last morning came. He looked eagerly for some of the family to appear, but only the colored servants passed in and out. To escape being seen he had hidden behind a large box in the shed.

He heard the call for breakfast, and concluded he had never been so hungry before in his life. After a while his patience was rewarded. A young lady came out of the house, and entering the shed, began looking around, as if searching for something. It was his cousin Kate.

"Kate!" he whispered.

The girl started and looked wildly around.

"Kate!"

She uttered a little scream and turned as if to flee.

"Kate, don't be afraid. It is I, your cousin Calhoun Pennington."

"Where? Where?" she half-whispered, looking eagerly around and poised as if still for flight.

"Here behind the box. Come close. There, don't ask a question. Get the servants out of the way and smuggle me into the house unseen. I am wet, cold, and hungry."

Kate flew to do his bidding. In a few moments she came out and beckoned to him, and right gladly he followed her into the house. One risen from the dead would hardly have created more surprise than did his appearance. His aunt and Kate persisted in embracing him, wet and dirty as he was.

To their eager questions, he said: "Dry clothes first, Auntie, and breakfast. I am famished. I will then talk with you to your heart's content."

Mrs. Shackelford had had a son about the size of Calhoun killed in the army, and our hero was soon arrayed in a nice dry suit, and seated before a substantial breakfast, upon which he made a furious assault. When his hunger was fully appeased, he informed his aunt and Kate he was ready to talk. And how they did talk! They had a thousand questions to ask, and he had full as many.

To his surprise and joy he learned that his cousin, Fred Shackelford, had not been killed by his fall over the cliff, as Major Hockoday reported. Instead he was alive and well, was with the army at Murfreesboro, and frequently visited them.

"He has been a good friend to us," said Mrs. Shackelford, "but at one time he was nearly the death of Kate."

"Why, how was that?" asked Calhoun.

Then for the first time he heard of Forrest's plot to capture Nashville, and of Kate's part in it, of her condemnation, and imprisonment as a spy, and how Fred had secured her pardon.(2)

Calhoun listened to the story in wonder. When it was finished, he exclaimed: "Why, Kate, you are a heroine! I am proud of you."

"I am not proud of myself," answered Kate. "I blush every time I think of how—how I lied and deceived."

"Oh! that is a part of war," laughed Calhoun. "If Morgan didn't lie about the number of men he had, the Yanks would gobble him up in no time. We don't call such things lying; it's a righteous deceiving of the enemy."

"But I am ready to sink into the earth with shame every time I think of Ainsworth," sighed Kate.

"That's rich," laughed Calhoun; "crying because you broke the heart of a Yankee! Kate, I have a mind to send you into the enemy's lines. If Cupid's darts were only fatal, your bright eyes would create more havoc than a battle."

"No use sending her away," broke in Mrs. Shackelford; "there are more Federal officers buzzing around her now than I wish there were."

"Mighty useful to worm secrets from," exclaimed Kate; "but I make no promises to any of them."

"That's right, Kate, get all the secrets from them you can," said Calhoun; "that is what I am in Nashville for. Can any one get around the city without much danger?"

"Oh, yes, in the daytime; but there is always more or less danger to strangers. Business is going on as usual. The city is lively, livelier than before the war; but it is soldiers—soldiers everywhere."

"And you have to have no passes?" asked Calhoun.

"It is best to have one. Most of us have standing permits to come and go in the city as we please."

"Can you get me a permit?" asked Calhoun, eagerly.

"There is Jim Grantham," replied Kate, thoughtfully; "his description will suit Calhoun close enough. I can get Jim to loan you his."

Calhoun was now told that the Southern people in Nashville were thoroughly organized into a secret society. They had their signs and pass-words, so that they could know each other. So far no one had proved a traitor. The Federal authorities suspected that such an organization existed, but their shrewdest detectives never succeeded in finding out anything about it.

Kate, who had gone for the permit of James Grantham, soon returned with it. The description fitted Calhoun almost as well as if made out for himself. He could now walk the streets of Nashville with little fear of arrest.

He was given a list of those who could most probably give him the information he desired. He marvelled to see how quickly a little sign which he gave was answered, and was amazed at the work this secret organization was doing. Not a regiment entered or left Nashville but they knew its exact strength, and to what point it was ordered.

In two days Calhoun had gathered information which would be of vast value to the Confederate cause, and it was now time for him to see by what means he could leave the city. He was on his way to see three gentlemen who said they could get him outside of the city without trouble or danger, when an incident happened which came near sending him to the gallows. He was walking unconcernedly along the street, when he suddenly came face to face with Haines, now a captain. Although Calhoun was dressed in citizen's clothes, the captain knew him at a glance.

"A spy! A spy!" he yelled at the top of his voice, and made a grab at Calhoun. Calhoun struck him a tremendous blow which sent him rolling in the gutter, and fled at the top of his speed.

But a score of voices took up the cry, and a howling mob, mostly of soldiers, were at his heels. He hoped to reach the river, where among the immense piles of stores heaped along the levee, or among the shipping, he might secrete himself, but a patrol guard suddenly appeared a block away, and his retreat was cut off. He gave himself up for lost, and reached for a small pistol which he carried, with the intention of putting a bullet through his own heart; "for," thought he, "they shall never have the pleasure of hanging me before a gaping crowd."

Just then he saw two young ladies standing in the open door of a house. What told him safety lay there he never knew, but hope sprang up within his breast. Dashing up the steps, he thrust the ladies back into the house, slammed the door to, and locked it. So rude was his entrance, one of the ladies fell to the floor.

"Save me! Save me!" he cried, "I am a Confederate spy," and he gave the sign of the secret order.

The young lady who had not fallen was terribly frightened, but she grasped the situation in a moment.

"Upstairs," she gasped, pointing the way; "tell mother, the secret place."

Calhoun lost no time in obeying her. The girl flew to the back door and opened it, then back just as her sister was rising, her face covered with blood, for she had hit her nose in falling.

"Quick, Annette, in the parlor," said her sister; "assent to everything I say."

Annette staggered into the parlor hardly knowing what she did, for she was dazed and terribly frightened. The sister, whose name was Inez, was now at the door, which was giving way before the blows of Calhoun's pursuers. All this happened in less than a minute.

"Stop!" she cried, "I will unlock the door," and she did so, and when the soldiers rushed in, crying, "Where is he? Where is the spy?" she stood wringing her hands and sobbing, "My sister! Oh, my sister! he has murdered her."

The words brought the soldiers to a halt. "Who murdered your sister?" asked a sergeant who seemed to be the leader.

"The man! the man who ran in here!"

"Where is he? He is the fellow we want."

"He rushed out of the back door. Oh! my sister, my sister!"

"After him, boys; don't let him get away!" yelled the sergeant, and they rushed through the house in hot pursuit.

The house was rapidly filling, when a captain appeared, and learning of the sobbing Inez what the trouble was, said: "Murdered your sister! Horrible! where is she?"

"Here," said Inez, leading the way into the parlor. Annette was reclining on a sofa, her face bloody; she was apparently in a fainting condition.

The captain acted quickly. He ordered the house to be cleared, sent a subordinate for a surgeon, and another to have the whole block surrounded. In the mean time the mother of the girls had appeared, and was adding her sobs to those of her eldest daughter. When the surgeon came and had washed the blood from Annette's face, her only injury was found to be a bruised nose.

Both the captain and the surgeon looked inquiringly. "How is this?" they asked, "you said your sister was murdered."

"I—I thought she was," stammered Inez. "I saw the blood and thought the man had stabbed her."

"Tell us just what happened," said the captain.

Annette, who had by this time so far recovered from her fright as to comprehend what was going on, saw Inez give her the signal of danger. It put her on her guard.

"Why, it was this way," said Inez, in answer to the captain, "sister and I were going out, but just as we opened the door, there was a tumult on the street. We stopped to see what the trouble was, when a man dashed up the steps. We tried to oppose him, but he struck sister a cruel blow, knocking her down, flung me backward, and slamming the door to, locked it; then running through the house, disappeared through the back door. Seeing sister's face covered with blood, I picked her up and carried her into the parlor. By this time the soldiers were breaking down the door, and I went and unlocked it."

Annette only knew that she tried to oppose the entrance of a strange man, who knocked her down. She must have been rendered unconscious, for she remembered nothing more, until she found herself lying on the sofa in the parlor. The mother, Mrs. Lovell, was upstairs, and knew nothing of what had happened until alarmed by the screams of her daughters and the noisy entrance of the soldiers. These stories so accorded with the known facts that the captain did not for a moment doubt them. But when the sergeant returned and reported that no trace of the fugitive could be discovered, he was puzzled.

Orders were given to search every house in the block. This was done, but the search was fruitless. When this fact was reported, the captain bit his lip in vexation. Then turning to Inez, he said: "Pardon me, Miss Lovell, while I do not doubt your story in the least, are you sure the fellow ran out of the house? Was not his opening the back door just a ruse? He opened the door and then dodged into some room, thinking this house the safest place for him. Every house in the block has been searched except this one, and we can find no trace of him. While I regret it, I shall be compelled to have this house searched."

"I am sure he ran out," answered Inez, "but I confess I was very badly frightened. If you think he is in the house, search it. I ask as a favor that you search it, for if he is concealed in the house as you think, he may murder us all."

A thorough search was made, but there was found no trace of Calhoun. The officers and soldiers retired greatly puzzled. A strong guard was maintained around the block for three days; then all hopes of catching Calhoun were given up, and the guard was withdrawn.

The Federal authorities had become aware who the fugitive was through Captain Haines. "I cannot be mistaken," he said; "I have met him too many times. He is one of the most daring of all of Morgan's cutthroats"; and then he gave an account of his first meeting with Calhoun.

But where was Calhoun all this time? When he rushed upstairs at the command of Inez, he was met at the top by Mrs. Lovell, who started in affright at the sight of him.

"Your daughter said, 'The secret place!' " he exclaimed, as he gave her the sign of danger. "My pursuers are already at the door."

The lady quickly recovered herself. "Come!" she said, and led Calhoun into a room. Here she began working in a corner. Her hands trembled as she did so, for the soldiers were thundering at the door downstairs, and she could hear it giving way. To Calhoun's intense surprise, a section of the apparently solid wall gave way, leaving an opening large enough for a person to enter by crawling on his hands and knees.

"Quick, go in!" said the lady.

Calhoun needed no second bidding, but crawled in, and the wall slowly came back to place. Calhoun found himself in a narrow place, between the wall of the room and the side of the house. The house had been built with a mansard roof on the sides, thus leaving a space. This space was about three feet wide at the bottom, coming to a point at the top. Close under the eaves, where it would not be noticed, an aperture had been left for the admission of air, and through it a ray of light came.

Narrow and contracted as his quarters were, to Calhoun they were more welcome than a palace. It was plain that the place had been occupied before, for on the floor there were soft blankets, and in feeling around Calhoun discovered a jug of water and some provisions. It was evident that no one who was put in there hurriedly was to be allowed to suffer from thirst or hunger.

Calhoun could hear every word which was said when the soldiers searched the room. His heart stood still when he heard them sounding the walls, but they gave forth no uncertain sound, and the soldiers departed, much to his relief.

It was not until the next day that Calhoun was allowed to leave his hiding-place, and then he was told he must not leave the room. He had to be ready to seek his refuge at a moment's notice, if found necessary. For three days he was virtually a prisoner, then the guards around the block were withdrawn.

Word was taken to his aunt and Kate where he was. They had been in an agony of fear over his non-return. But they durst not visit him.

To Mrs. Lovell and her daughters Calhoun felt he could never repay what they had done for him. He felt like a brute, when Annette was introduced to him, her pretty features disfigured by a swollen nose, and when he was making his most abject apologies, she interrupted him with a gay laugh.

"I am proud of that nose!" she exclaimed; "as proud as a gallant soldier of his wounds, for does it not show that I have shed my blood for our beloved South?"

We are of the opinion that during his enforced imprisonment, Calhoun would have lost his heart to Annette if he had not learned she was engaged to a gallant officer in Bragg's army.

What troubled Calhoun the most was the thought that his scouts would return to Morgan with the news that he was captured, but there was no help for it.

After the guards had been withdrawn, he at once began to make plans for his escape from the city. The original plan had to be given up, for the vigilance of the Federals had been redoubled, and it was impossible for any one to leave the city without his identity being fully established.

At last Inez clapped her hands. "I have it," she cried. "Get him out to Dr. Caldwell. The doctor lives clear on the outskirts of the city, and on the bank of the river. Lieutenant Pennington can take to the river going as he did coming."

"But he can't float up stream," said Annette, "and as for a boat, that will be impossible."

"He can swim," said Inez, "swim across the river. He will be above the pickets around Edgefield."

"But how can he get to Dr. Caldwell? It is not safe for him to appear on the street. Not a guard but has a description of him," said the careful Annette.

"Dr. Caldwell is attending Mrs. Robinson (the Robinsons lived next door); it will be easy for the doctor to take him in his buggy; no guard will think of disturbing the doctor, he is too well known."

Calhoun eagerly caught at the idea. When Dr. Caldwell visited Mrs. Robinson during the day, he was seen, and consented to the scheme. "Muffle him up," he said, "he will be taken for one of my patients." Before Calhoun left he wrote a letter, and directed it to Captain Haines — Regt. This Inez promised to mail when Calhoun was well out of the city.

Dr. Caldwell had no trouble in taking Calhoun to his home. Here he stayed until dark, then bidding the hospitable physician good-bye, he plunged into the river and was soon across, and began to make his way slowly up the northern bank. But the night was dark, and after many falls and bruises, he concluded to wait for daylight. Having made himself a bed of leaves beside a log, he was soon sleeping as peacefully as if no dangers were lurking near.

As for Captain Haines, he was bitterly disappointed when Calhoun was not caught. But his leave of absence was out, and he had to return to his regiment near Murfreesboro. A day or two after his return the following letter came with his mail:



NASHVILLE, TENN., April 25, 1863. To Capt. Chas. Haines,

My Dear Captain: When you receive this I shall be well out of Nashville. We have already met three times, and I trust we may meet once more. If we do, it will be our last, for one or the other of us will die. I know of your damnable treatment of the Osbornes. Be assured it will be avenged.

Sincerely yours, CALHOUN PENNINGTON, Lieutenant, Morgan's Command.



Captain Haines was no coward, but his hand trembled like a leaf when he laid the letter down.



CHAPTER XIII.

UNDER ARREST.

Calhoun did not wake until the light of the morning sun was sifting through the branches of the trees. He arose stiff and somewhat chill, but the day promised to be a warm one, and a little exercise put a delightful heat through his body. All he lacked was a good breakfast, and he must not look for that until he had crossed the river; he was yet too close to Nashville to try to cross it. Then he must secure a horse, and where would he be so likely to secure one as at the home of Mr. Edmunds, the gentleman of whom he had obtained the skiff, and who had given him all possible aid? He had no hopes of finding his men, for at the end of three days they would return to Morgan, taking his horse with them.

He slowly made his way up the river, dodging two or three scouting parties, until he thought he must be nearly opposite to where Mr. Edmunds lived. The place seemed favorable, as there were woods on both sides of the river, so he determined to cross. But if he had known it, he had selected a very dangerous place. A road which led down to the river was but a few yards in front of him, and it was one of the places to which the Federal cavalry came as they patrolled the bank of the river.

Just as he was about to remove some of his clothing, which he would carry over on his head as he swam the stream, he was startled by the sound of horses' hoofs, and he hastily concealed himself in a thicket. Soon a Federal sergeant, accompanied by two soldiers, came down the road, and riding near the edge of the river, dismounted.

"Here is the place," said the sergeant.

"What are we to do here?" asked one of the men.

"Keep watch to see if any Johnny attempts to cross the river," answered the sergeant; "but I doubt if we see anything larger than buzzards, and we can't stop them."

The men made themselves comfortable, and lay in the shade smoking their pipes. Calhoun was considering the proposition whether he could not quietly withdraw, and flank them without being seen, when one of the men said: "Sergeant, let me go to that house we passed and see if I cannot get a canteen of milk. It will go good with our hardtack."

"You can both go," replied the sergeant; "I guess I can stop any one who attempts to cross the river while you are away. But don't be gone long."

The men quickly availed themselves of the opportunity, and mounting their horses rode away. The sergeant stretched himself on the ground, and lazily watched the river. Now was Calhoun's time. He had secured a good revolver when he left Nashville. This he had kept dry when he swam the river by wrapping it in his outside clothing, which he had made into a bundle, and carried over on his head. Taking the revolver in his hand, ready for instant use, he cautiously crept up on the sergeant.



That individual leaped to his feet as if he had springs when he heard the stern command, "Surrender!"

He reached for his weapon, but suddenly stopped when he saw he was looking into the muzzle of a revolver.

"Hands up! Be quick about it!"

The hands of the sergeant slowly went above his head.

"Pardon me, but I will relieve you of this," said Calhoun, as he took a revolver from the belt of his prisoner, and tossed it into the river.

Up to this time the sergeant had not said a word, but now he exclaimed, with the utmost disgust, "How thundering careless of me! Sergeant Latham, you are no good; you ought to be reduced to the ranks."

"Oh! don't feel too bad about it; better men than you have been caught napping," replied Calhoun, consolingly.

"But no bigger fool. To be gobbled in like this, and by a blamed skulking citizen, too. Now, if—"

"Rest your mind there, if it will make you feel any better," broke in Calhoun, "I am no civilian, I am Lieutenant Calhoun Pennington of Morgan's command."

"You don't say," replied the sergeant, apparently much relieved. "Lieutenant, allow me to introduce myself. I am Sergeant Silas Latham. We have had the pleasure of meeting before."

"Where?" asked Calhoun, in surprise.

"Down in Tennessee, when you got away with Lieutenant Haines's horse so slick."

Calhoun's face darkened. "Did you have anything to do with the persecution of the Osbornes?" he asked, threateningly.

"Not I. That was the blamedest, meanest trick I ever knew Haines to do. But he was dead gone on the girl. I half believe he would have turned Reb if he could have got her."

"I saw Haines the other day," remarked Calhoun.

"Where?" asked the Sergeant.

"In Nashville. I had the pleasure of knocking him down."

The Sergeant chuckled. "Served him right. He threatened to have me reduced to the ranks because I told him he ought to be ashamed of himself, the way he persecuted that girl."

"Are you in his company now?"

"No; he is the captain of another company. Glad of it."

"Sergeant Latham, I would like to continue this conversation, but time presses. Give me your parole, and I will be going."

"By gum, I won't do it!" exclaimed Latham, with energy. "If you want to take me prisoner, take me. But do you think I am going sneaking back to camp with the story that I let one Johnny gobble me? No, sir, not by a jugful!"

"Latham, you are a character. Can you swim?"

"Never learned when a boy."

"Will your horse carry double?" asked Calhoun.

"No, he is a poor swimmer, he would drown us both."

"Latham, I am afraid I shall have to shoot you. I don't see any other way to get rid of you."

Latham thought a moment, and said: "Let me ride the horse across and you swim."

"A brilliant idea, declined with thanks."

Latham scratched his head as if for an idea. "Perhaps I can hang on by the horse's tail," he remarked, hesitatingly.

"That's better. It's either a parole, the tail, or death. Which shall it be?"

"I will take the tail."

"All right; but you must give me your word of honor that you will hang on."

"Like grim death," answered Latham.

"Come, then, I have fooled away too much time already."

Marching his prisoner up to where his horse was tethered, Calhoun took Latham's sword and carbine which hung to the saddle and pitched them into the river after the revolver.

Mounting the horse, Calhoun said, "Now, no fooling. The slightest attempt on your part to escape, and I shall shoot you without compunction of conscience."

"I am not fool enough to run when there is a revolver at my head," growled Latham.

"Nevertheless you will bear watching. I am of the opinion you are a slippery customer. You just walk by my side here until we reach deep water."

They entered the river. Latham wading quietly by the side of the horse, until the water became so deep the horse began to plunge.

"Now, grab his tail," commanded Calhoun, and he watched Latham until he had taken a firm hold of the horse's tail and was in water beyond his depth.

"For the Lord's sake, keep his head above water," shouted Latham from behind, as the horse made a fearful plunge.

For the next few minutes Calhoun had enough to do without looking to see what had become of Latham. The horse, as the Sergeant had said, proved a poor swimmer. Twice he came near drowning; but at last managed to struggle through. When he got to where the water was shallow enough for the horse to wade, Calhoun looked around to see how Latham had fared.

To his surprise he saw that worthy leaning against a tree on the bank from which they had started, and apparently he had been watching the struggles of the horse in the water with a great deal of satisfaction.

Calhoun hardly knew whether to laugh or get angry. Riding to the edge of the water, he turned his horse around, and yelled over, "You are a pretty fellow, you are! Like most Yankees, your word of honor is worthless."

"Did just what I said I would!" yelled back Latham.

"You did not. You told me you would hold on that horse's tail like grim death."

"And so I did. I am holding on to it yet," and to Calhoun's surprise Latham shook a large piece of the horse's tail at him. He had neatly severed it.

Calhoun shook with suppressed laughter, but assuming a severe tone, he said: "You lied to me like a Turk, anyway, you miserable Yankee; you told me you could not swim."

"I told you no such thing, you skulking Rebel," yelled back Latham, wrathfully. "Come back here and fight me like a man, and I will wallop you until you can't stand, for calling me a liar. I would have you know I am a member of the church in good standing."

"Didn't you tell me you couldn't swim?"

"No; I told you I had never learned to swim when a boy."

"When did you learn to swim?"

"After I became a man."

Calhoun exploded. "Say, Latham," he cried, "I forgive you. You are the slickest Yankee I ever met. I must be going, for I see your men are coming. Ta! ta!"

Calhoun turned and urged his horse up the bank, but not in time to escape having two balls sing uncomfortably close to his head.

Sergeant Latham had little trouble in recovering his arms from the river, as the water was not deep where Calhoun had thrown them.

The Sergeant made the following report of the affair to his superior officer:



Sir: I have the honor to report that a Rebel scout crossed the Cumberland to-day near the post where I was stationed. I followed him into the river, but my horse being a poor swimmer, I was forced to abandon him in mid-stream to save myself.

SILAS LATHAM, Sergeant.



The capture of Latham's horse and the ludicrous affair with him put Calhoun in the best of humor. He reached the house of Mr. Edmunds without further adventure, and met with a hearty welcome from that gentleman, who informed him that his men had lingered a day longer than he had ordered, in the hope that he would return.

After satisfying his hunger, Calhoun bade his kind host good-bye, and without trouble reached Morgan's camp that night. Here he was received as one snatched from the jaws of death, for they had given him up as lost. The valuable information which he had collected was forwarded to General Bragg, and in due time an acknowledgment was received from that general, warmly congratulating him, and saying he had recommended him for a captaincy.

It was but a few days after his return that Calhoun was with a regiment reconnoitring near Braddyville, when they were suddenly attacked by a whole brigade of Federal cavalry. The engagement was a spirited one, but owing to the superior numbers of the Federals, the Confederates were forced to fall back. During the retreat Calhoun with his scouts was holding back the advance of the enemy. They were furiously charged by two companies of the Federals, and a hand-to-hand conflict took place. During this combat Calhoun became engaged with a Federal captain, and to his surprise he saw that his antagonist was Captain Haines. The recognition was mutual, and it must have unnerved the hand of the Captain, for although but a few feet from Calhoun, he fired and missed him. Before he could fire again, Calhoun dashed his empty revolver into his face. The force of the blow caused him to reel in his saddle, and before he could recover, Calhoun had cut him down.

The bloody repulse of these two companies cooled the ardor of the Federals, and the Confederates withdrew without further molestation.

Major Conway noted Calhoun's growing popularity with the command, and his hatred, if possible, grew more bitter. The sting of the blow he had received still rankled in his heart, and he swore sooner or later to have his revenge. His attempts to assassinate Calhoun in time of battle, so far had failed, and Calhoun's extreme wariness now usually kept them apart during an engagement. The crafty Major was busily thinking of some other scheme by which he could kill Calhoun without bringing suspicion on himself, when an incident happened which he thought would not only cause Calhoun to die a most disgraceful death, but redound greatly to his own credit.

Calhoun was out with his scouts when he fell in with a small party of the enemy. As he outnumbered them, he thought their capture was easy. But he was met with such a rapid and accurate fire that his men were forced to fall back.

"Them Yankees have repeating rifles," growled one of his men, "and they know how to shoot."

This was true, and Calhoun was thinking of withdrawing from the fight entirely, when he caught sight of the leader of the Federals. The horse which he rode he would know among ten thousand. It was Prince, the famous horse of his cousin, and the rider must be Fred. Ordering his men to cease firing, Calhoun tied a white handkerchief to the point of his sword, and rode forward.

Fred, for it was he, rode out to meet him. As soon as he came within hearing distance, he asked, "Do you surrender?"

"Surrender nothing!" answered Calhoun, a little disgusted. "If you only knew how many men I had back there you would think of surrendering yourself. I simply came out to have a little talk with you."

"Cal, as sure as I live!" exclaimed Fred, and in a moment the two cousins had each other by the hand, forgetting they were enemies, remembering only their love for each other.

They had much to say to each other, and talked longer than they thought, but were about to part, mutually agreeing to withdraw their men, when they were startled by the sound of rapid firing. Looking up they saw that Fred's men were being charged by a large force of Confederates. They were in full retreat, firing as they galloped back. Fred was alone in the midst of his enemies.

The Confederates proved to be a full squadron in command of Major Conway. He was accompanied by Captain Mathews. No sooner did they see Fred than they shouted in their delight.

"The hoss is mine again!" cried Mathews.

"And this spy and sneak is in my power at last," exclaimed Conway, pointing at Fred; "and what is better I have you, my fine fellow," said Conway, turning to Calhoun. "I have long known that you were holding treasonable conferences with the enemy, and have only been waiting for indubitable proof. I have it now.

"Lieutenant," turning to one of his officers, "arrest Lieutenant Pennington, and on your life see that he does not escape."

The enormity of the charge dumbfounded Calhoun. He could scarcely believe his ears. He began to protest, but was cut short by Conway, who ordered the Lieutenant to take an escort of ten men and to conduct Calhoun straightway to General Bragg at Tullahoma.

"Tell the General," he said, "that I have positive proof of Lieutenant Pennington's treasonable intercourse with the enemy. The case is so important I thought it best to send the prisoner direct to him. As soon as I see General Morgan I will file formal charges."

The Lieutenant seemed surprised at his orders to take Calhoun direct to Bragg, but he said nothing, and choosing his escort, was soon on the way to Tullahoma with his prisoner.

Major Conway's real object in sending Calhoun to Tullahoma was to bring the case directly to the notice of General Bragg, and thus compel Morgan to take action. He knew that his charge would not be believed in Morgan's command, but he would see that there was plenty of evidence at the right time.

Disarmed, under arrest, charged with the most heinous offence of which an officer could be guilty, it is no wonder that Calhoun's heart sank within him on that dismal journey to Tullahoma.

"Better to have been hanged as a spy by the Federals than to be shot as a traitor by my own men," he muttered to himself. The thought of dying such a disgraceful death was maddening.

When he arrived at Tullahoma, his reception by General Bragg was not exactly such as he had expected. Bragg was noted as a martinet and a great stickler for military forms. When the lieutenant who had Calhoun in charge reported to him, and told him the verbal message which Major Conway had sent, he flew into a furious rage.

"What does Major Conway mean by sending a prisoner to me with such a message as that?" he sputtered. "What is General Morgan about that he has not attended to this, and presented his charges in due form.

"Officer, take the prisoner to General Morgan, and tell Major Conway to read up on army discipline."

If it had endangered his whole army, Bragg would have contended for rigid adherence to military law. When Bragg's order was reported to Calhoun, hope began to revive. Surely Morgan would give him a fair hearing. Every act he had done in the army would disprove the monstrous charges of Major Conway.

It was with a much lighter heart that he set out for MacMinnville. But when he reached that place he was surprised by the astonishing news that Conway had been shot—killed while in the act of murdering his cousin in cold blood.

One of the men who was with Conway at the time was mortally wounded, and confessed the whole thing. Conway was to prepare a paper which they were to swear was found on Fred's person, criminating Calhoun. With such evidence his conviction would have been certain. He thanked God for the death of Conway. It meant a thousand times more to him than life, for it kept his name unsullied.

Morgan made a full report of the whole matter to General Bragg. "The plot was damnable," he wrote, "yet it might have been successful if Major Conway had not met his just deserts. But one might as well accuse me of holding treasonable communications with the enemy as Lieutenant Pennington. He is the officer, as you may remember, that entered Nashville a short time since, and sent you such a valuable report. Moreover, he is the very officer I have chosen to look into that matter which we have discussed so much. I expect to send him North next week."

Thus was Calhoun fully exonerated, and not only that, but he was to be chosen for a most important mission. He also had the satisfaction of seeing Morgan make Captain Mathews return Fred his horse, much to the Captain's disgust. But what was the important duty upon which Calhoun was to be sent North? He had heard nothing of it before.

Some time before the Hon. C. L. Vallandigham, a noted Democratic politician of Ohio, and an ex-member of Congress, had been arrested at his home in Dayton for treason. He was tried by military court-martial, found guilty, and banished South. The excitement was intense. Thousands of his friends rallied to his defence, and at one time it looked as if the streets of Dayton would run red with blood. His friends were in open revolt against the government, and opposed the prosecution of the war.

Before this numerous reports had reached the South of the dissatisfaction of a large number of the Democratic party with Lincoln, especially with his proclamation freeing the slaves. They were sick and tired of the war, and were more than willing to give the South her independence. They were ready to force Lincoln to do this. A secret society, known as the Knights of the Golden Circle, existed throughout the North, and was most numerous in the states of Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio. The purpose of this society was to resist the draft, encourage desertions from the army, embarrass the government in every way possible, and if necessary resort to arms. Already numerous small encounters had taken place between the Knights and the militia of these states.

It was the boast of the Knights that they had a quarter of a million men armed and drilled, ready to take the field. If a Confederate force would only invade the North, their ranks would be augmented by these thousands. It was to investigate these reports and find out the truth that Calhoun was to be sent North.



CHAPTER XIV.

THE KNIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN CIRCLE.

No one was more surprised than Calhoun when told that he had been selected to go North on a secret and most important mission.

"General Breckinridge and I have selected you," said Morgan, "because we have confidence in your sagacity, bravery, and discretion. We know no one better fitted to intrust this delicate, and perhaps dangerous, mission to than yourself."

"But I am so young," said Calhoun; "while I gladly accept the honor which I feel you have bestowed upon me, would not one older and more experienced than I do better?"

"Your youth is one of the main reasons why we have chosen you," replied Morgan. "A youth like you will not excite suspicion half as quickly as a man."

"Then I am more than willing to go," answered Calhoun, "and trust that the confidence you repose in me will not prove to have been misplaced."

"I have no fears on that score," answered Morgan; "I know that you will succeed, if any one can."

The General then fully explained what was required of him. Calhoun listened in silence.

"I think I fully understand what you want of me, General, but how am I to approach these Knights of the Golden Circle? How am I to find out who are Knights?"

"That has already been provided for," answered Morgan. "We are now ready to initiate you into a camp of the Golden Circle."

"Does the order exist down South, too?" asked Calhoun, in surprise.

"Certainly, to some extent," was the answer. "If not, how could we know the secrets of the order? You are willing, I suppose, to take the oaths required?"

"If there is not anything in them to hinder me from being a true son of the South," replied Calhoun.

"I assure you there is not, for I have taken them," said Morgan; "but you must bear in mind this is a Northern order, its chief purpose to overthrow the Lincoln government; its chief cornerstone is States' Rights. The Hon. C. L. Vallandigham, who was lately sent into our lines for disloyalty, but who has now found a refuge in Canada, is the Supreme Commander of the order. No truer friend of the South exists than Vallandigham. He believes in the doctrine of secession. The North is sick and tired of the war, and wants to put a stop to it and let the South go in peace. This is the purpose of the order."

"All right," said Calhoun; "I am ready to join any order that has that for its purpose."

Calhoun was conducted to a tent where, to his surprise, he met quite a number of the officers of the command. There was one stranger present, a gentleman in civilian dress. Calhoun was told that he was from the North, was a high officer in the order, and that he would conduct the initiatory ceremonies. When Calhoun issued from that tent he was a full-fledged member of the Knights of the Golden Circle. But he had taken only the first degree. The other degrees were to be given to him after he had arrived in the North.

After having fully learned the signs, grips, and passwords of the order, Calhoun was ready for his journey. He now received his final instructions from Morgan and Breckinridge.

It did not take Calhoun long to see that while these gentlemen were willing to use the order, they had the utmost contempt for it. All nations use traitors and despise them at the same time. The Knights of the Golden Circle were traitors to their section. Calhoun felt this, and loathed the men with whom he was to mingle; but if they could help the South to secure her independence, it was all he asked. He, like the noble Major Andre of Revolutionary fame, was willing to risk his life for the cause he loved. Andre failed, and suffered an ignominious death; but his fame grows brighter with the centuries, while the traitor Arnold is still abhorred.

"Here is a belt containing ten thousand dollars in United States money," said Morgan, handing him a belt. "You will need it; our money don't go in the North."

"Whew! you must have had your hand in Lincoln's strong-box," said Calhoun, as he took the money.

Morgan smiled as he answered: "A Yankee paymaster don't come amiss once in a while."

Calhoun was next given an official envelope, which he was to hand to General Forrest, who was then operating in Northern Mississippi and Western Tennessee.

"You will receive full instructions from Forrest," continued Morgan, "what to do, and how to get through the Yankee lines. We have concluded to send you by the way of Western Tennessee, as you will not be so apt to meet with any Federal officer who might know you. Now go, and may success attend you."

Calhoun took his chief's hand. His heart was too full to say a word. A strong grasp, and he was gone. He had no trouble in finding General Forrest, who carefully read the papers that Calhoun handed him. He then scanned Calhoun closely from head to feet. "I reckon you understand the purport of these papers," he said, in rather a harsh voice.

"I suppose they relate to sending me through the lines," answered Calhoun.

"Well, I can send you through, young man, but you are going on a fool's errand. I have had a good deal to do with those Knights of the Golden Circle, as they call themselves. They are all right in giving away everything they know; but when it comes to fighting, bah! one of my companies would lick ten thousand."

"Then you haven't much faith in the fighting qualities of the Knights?" said Calhoun, with a smile.

"Faith? Not I. They are Yankees, mere money-grabbers. Ask one of them for ten dollars and he will shut up as tight as a clam. But they worry the Lincoln government, and keep up a fire in the rear; therefore they should be encouraged. You will find them a scurvy lot to deal with, though."

"How soon can I start North?" asked Calhoun.

"To-night," answered Forrest. "I am the president of an underground railroad, took my cue from the Abolitionists when they were engaged in running our niggers through to Canada. I have a regular mail North. I will send you through with one of the carriers. I reckon I had better send your credentials by a second carrier. It might be awkward if you were captured with them. You must leave here dressed as a citizen, and bear in mind that your name is W. B. Harrison."

"Where shall I find my credentials?" asked Calhoun.

"At Mount Vernon, Illinois, which is the terminus of my railroad at present. Inquire for Judge Worley. Once in his hands, you will be all right. If all the Knights were like him there would be something doing; but he is a Kentuckian, no whining Yankee."

Calhoun had heard much of General Forrest, and during his interview with him studied him carefully. He put him down as a man of indomitable energy, of great courage, and possessing military genius of a high order. On the other hand, he was illiterate, rough in his language, and lacked the polish of a cultured gentleman, which Morgan possessed. But there was a magnetism about him which drew men to him.

"If I were not riding with Morgan, I should surely want to be with Forrest," thought Calhoun.

Night came, and Calhoun was introduced to the mail-carrier who was to be his guide. He was a thin, wiry man, named Givens. In age, Calhoun put him down at about forty. The few days during which Calhoun was with Givens gave him a very high opinion of the guide's bravery and sagacity. Givens related many of his hairbreadth escapes during their journey, and seemed to treat them as great jokes. During the entire journey through Tennessee and Kentucky, Givens kept to unfrequented roads, and in the darkest night rode as one entirely familiar with the way.

At every place they stopped, they seemed to be expected. A man would take their horses, and in the evening when they started, they would find fresh horses provided. Givens informed Calhoun that these stations were a night ride apart, and that at each a relay of horses was kept concealed in the woods.

"I now understand," said Calhoun, "what an underground railroad means. If the Abolitionists had as complete a one as you, no wonder they were so successful in getting away with our slaves."

Givens chuckled as he answered: "They did, I know all about it; was in the business myself."

"You?" asked Calhoun, in surprise, and he instinctively recoiled from the man.

"A man has to do something for a living," growled Givens; "I got so much for each nigger I ran off." He then refused to discuss the subject further.

One night as they were travelling at a rapid gait, a low, tremulous whistle came from the side of the road. Givens reined in his horse so quickly that he fell back on his haunches. He answered the whistle in the same low, tremulous note. A man stepped from the bushes into the road, and spoke a few words to Givens in a low tone.

Givens turned to Calhoun and said: "Yanks ahead. We will have to go round them."

Under the guidance of the man they turned into a path through the woods. The way was rough, and Givens swore roundly because they were losing time. A good-sized stream was reached, which they had to swim. They emerged from it wet and out of humor, Givens cursing the Yankees to his heart's content. He explained that it eased his mind. When the road was reached their guide bade them good-bye, and disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared.

Givens and Calhoun now urged their horses to their utmost speed, in order to reach their next stopping-place by daylight. But do the best they could, the sun was an hour high before they reached their haven of rest. Luckily they met with no one, and they felt safe.

"One more night and we shall reach the Ohio," said Givens, when they dismounted after a long, wearisome night ride. But it was destined that they should not reach the Ohio the next night, for they had not ridden more than five miles after they had started before they were brought up with the sharp command: "Halt! Who comes there?"

"Citizens without the countersign," answered Givens without a moment's hesitation, and then to Calhoun, "Wheel and run for your life."

They both turned and clapped spurs to their horses, but not before the sentinel had fired. Calhoun heard a sharp exclamation of pain, and turning his head saw Givens tumble from his horse. He had carried his last mail. There was no time to halt, for Calhoun heard the rapid hoof-beats of horses in pursuit. Coming to a cross-road, he sprang from his horse and struck him a vicious blow which sent him galloping wildly down the road. In a moment a squad of Federal cavalry passed in swift pursuit. Calhoun breathed freer after the trampling of their horses died away in the distance. But he was alone, without a horse, and in a strange country. He was now thankful that Forrest had not sent his credentials with Givens.

Calhoun made his way slowly on foot, turning into a road which led in the direction which he wished to go. All through the night he plodded, and when morning came he found he was close to a large plantation. He determined to make himself known. Placing his revolver in his bosom, where he could get it in a moment, he boldly went up to the house. Fortunately he met the owner of the plantation, who saluted him with, "Heah, git off of my place, or I will set the dogs on you. I want no tramps around heah."

Calhoun glanced at himself, and did not wonder he had been mistaken for a disreputable character. His night's walk had made sad havoc with the looks of his clothes. The road was muddy, and he had fallen down several times. Rather in desperation than thinking it would do any good, he made the sign of recognition of the Knights of the Golden Circle. To his surprise it was answered.

"Who are you? and why do you come in such a plight?" asked the gentleman.

Calhoun's story was soon told. "And you are one of Morgan's men," said the gentleman, whose name was Cressey. "I have a son with Morgan," and he gave his name.

"One of my scouts," replied Calhoun, delighted. Calhoun had indeed found a friend, and a place of refuge. The next night, with a good horse and guide, Calhoun was taken to a house but a short distance from the river. The farmer who owned the house was to take a load of produce into Mount Vernon that day. Calhoun could easily go with him without exciting suspicion. This was done, and before noon Calhoun, free and unsuspected, was walking the streets of Mount Vernon.

Shortly after dinner he inquired for the office of Judge Worley, and was shown the most pretentious law office in the little city. Entering, he inquired for the Judge, and was told that he was in his private office.

"Tell him that a gentleman wishes to see him on very important business," said Calhoun.

A clerk bade him be seated, and disappeared. He returned in a moment and said the Judge would see him at once.

When Calhoun entered the private office he saw seated at a desk a dignified-looking gentleman about sixty years of age, who eyed him sharply, and Calhoun was sure a look of disappointment came over his face. This, then, was the gentleman who wished to see him on very important business—hardly more than a boy.

He did not even ask Calhoun to be seated, but said, in a cold voice: "Well, what do you want? Be in a hurry, for I am very busy."

This was not the kind of reception Calhoun was looking for. Gulping down his indignation, he said: "I am just from the South, I was directed to come to you, who would prove a friend."

"Ah! some one must have taken an unwarranted liberty with my name."

While he was saying this, Calhoun was aware a pair of steel-gray eyes were trying to read his very soul.

"Is that all?" at length continued the Judge. "I have no time to give you; as I told you, I am very busy," and he dismissed his visitor with a wave of the hand.

As a last resort Calhoun gave the sign of recognition of the Knights of the Golden Circle. There was no recognition; instead a testy, "Why don't you go?"

Calhoun's face flamed with anger, but controlling himself, he replied: "When you receive some mail from the South, you may find some dispatches from General Forrest which will cause you to treat me differently. If such dispatches come, be here in your office at nine o'clock to-night."

When Calhoun mentioned "mail from the South," and "General Forrest," the Judge turned pale, and Calhoun fancied he made a motion as if to stop him; but the young man paid no attention to the signal, and strode indignantly from the office.

No sooner was he gone than the Judge turned eagerly to a pile of mail which he had just received, and which the coming of Calhoun had interrupted him in reading. Hurriedly running over the letters, he picked out one, and opened it with nervous fingers. It was written in cipher. Opening a secret drawer in his desk, he took out the key to the cipher, and began the translation of the dispatch. As he did so, he gave vent to his surprise in various exclamations.

"Lieutenant Calhoun Pennington of Morgan's staff ... will go by name of W. B. Harrison ... comes North to fully investigate conditions.... If favorable will invade North.... Pennington is member of K. G. C."

The Judge laid down the letter and seemed to be gazing into vacancy. He was thinking—thinking hard. At last he picked up the letter and read it through to the end. Then he made preparations to go out.

"I shall not be back again this afternoon," he said to his clerk, as he passed out. "You can lock up the office when you leave. I shall not need you this evening."

When Calhoun called that evening, he was met at the door by the Judge, and given a reception much different from that he received in the afternoon.

"I am glad to see you, Lieutenant," said the Judge, and he raised his hand as if in military salute, but was careful not to touch his forehead.

"And I am rejoiced to make the acquaintance of Judge Worley," replied Calhoun, raising his hand as if to shade his eyes from the light.

They then advanced and grasped each other by the hand, the fore-finger of each resting on the pulse of the other.

"Nu," said Calhoun.

"Oh," responded the Judge.

"Lac," answered Calhoun.

"Nu-oh-lac," they then both said together.

Thus were they introduced to each other as members of the Knights of the Golden Circle.

The Judge was now profuse in his apologies for his treatment of Calhoun at their first meeting.

"The fact is," said the Judge, "we are surrounded by Lincoln spies on every hand. Some of them have gained admittance into the order. One cannot be too careful. Then your youth misled me. I am now surprised that one so young should be selected for so important a commission."

"No apology is needed," said Calhoun. "I confess I was indignant at first, but I now see you were right in receiving me as you did. Have you received General Forrest's letter yet?"

"Yes, and it makes all plain. By the way, I see that your name is Calhoun. Have you ever noticed our password particularly?"

"No; you must bear in mind I am a new member."

"Read your name backwards," said the Judge, with a smile.

Calhoun did so, and exclaimed, in surprise: "Nuohlac! Why, it's my name spelled backwards."

"Aye! and it is the name of the greatest American who ever lived," exclaimed the Judge, with enthusiasm. "I trust that you honor the name. Would that John C. Calhoun were alive now. What a glorious day it would be for him. But his spirit lives—lives, and thank God there is no Andrew Jackson in the presidential chair!"

"Lincoln seems to have more nerve than I wish he had," answered Calhoun.

"Lincoln is an ignoramus, a filthy story-teller, a monster. Seward is the brains of the administration. Without Seward, Lincoln would be nothing."

Calhoun thought it wise not to dispute with the Judge, so he changed the subject by asking the number of Knights of the Golden Circle in the state.

"That, under my oath, I cannot give," answered the Judge. "I see by General Forrest's letter that you have taken only the first degree of the order. That entitles you to very little information. It is the duty of those who take only this degree to obey, not to question. General Forrest advises that the other degrees be given you as soon as possible. I have already made arrangements to have you initiated into the second and third degrees this evening. That is as high as we can go here."

The Judge here looked at his watch, and said it was time to go.

Calhoun accompanied him to a room over a saloon, the Judge explaining that they had selected the place so as not to excite suspicion by so many men passing in and out. Calhoun found at least fifty men assembled, and when he was introduced as one of Morgan's men, he received a perfect ovation.

"Hurrah for John Morgan!" shouted one enthusiastic member, and the cheers were given with a will.

Three cheers were then given for Jeff Davis, followed by three groans for Abe Lincoln.

Calhoun could scarcely believe his ears. Was this the North? He could well believe he was in the heart of the South.

The object of the meeting was stated, and Calhoun was duly initiated into the second and third degrees. There was no mistaking the nature of the society; its object was the overthrow of the Lincoln government. But resistance to the draft was the main thing discussed. Their hatred of even the name of Lincoln was shown in every word.

Calhoun, now armed with the proper credentials, was told that to obtain the information which he sought, he would have to visit the Grand Commander of the state, who was a Dr. Warrenton, of Springfield. Calhoun marvelled that the head officer of such an order should reside under the very shadow of the state capitol.

The next day found Calhoun in Springfield. It was full of Federal soldiers, and from almost every house a United States flag was flying. It did not look like a very promising place for opposition to the Federal government, but Calhoun afterwards learned that the place was honeycombed with members of the Knights of the Golden Circle.

Calhoun was received by Dr. Warrenton with the greatest caution, and it was only after he was fully satisfied that his visitor was what he represented himself to be that the Doctor consented to talk.

"Be frank with me," said Calhoun; "John Morgan is contemplating a raid in the North, and he wishes to know whether in that case he can expect any aid from this order, and if so to what number."

The Doctor seemed to be fired with the idea of Morgan making a raid, but said: "If you are to be given the full information you ask for, you must be initiated into the fourth degree of the order. That is a degree which but very few take, and can be given only with the consent of the Supreme Commander. The Grand Commanders of the different states meet the Supreme Commander in Canada next Tuesday. This is Friday. You had better attend that meeting, as your mission is very important."

"Why meet in Canada?" asked Calhoun.

"Because it is safer, and—and we want to meet the Supreme Commander of the order."

"Ah! I understand," said Calhoun. "Mr. —"

"Stop; on your life mention no names! Our oaths forbid it."

"I stand corrected," answered Calhoun, humbly.

It was arranged that Calhoun was to accompany Dr. Warrenton to Canada; but the Doctor warned him that on the cars they must be to each other as strangers.

"When we reach Detroit," said the Doctor, "go to the Russell House, and register as from Chicago. Write Chicago 'Chic.' "

"I think I will go through to Chicago this evening," said Calhoun; "I should like to make some investigations there; you can meet me there Monday."

So it was arranged, the Doctor giving him the names of half a dozen men in that city whom it might be well for him to see. "But mind," said Warrenton, "do not tell any one of Morgan's contemplated raid. That must be a secret."

Calhoun spent two days in Chicago, and what he saw and learned there surprised him more than ever. Opposition to the Lincoln government was everywhere. The leading newspaper boldly demanded that the war be stopped, boastingly proclaimed that there would soon be "a fire in the rear" that would bring Lincoln to his senses. Resistance to the draft was openly talked on the streets. It was even hinted that there was a secret move on foot to liberate the prisoners at Camp Douglas and burn the city.

"This is proving interesting," thought Calhoun; "the whole North seems to be a seething volcano, ready to burst forth into flames, yet something seems to smother the flames."

Calhoun had an inkling of what smothered the flames when, representing himself as a young Englishman, he asked a Federal officer why the government permitted such open talk of treason.

The officer smiled as he answered: "It is better for them to talk than act. The government has its eye on them. As long as they only talk it lets them alone. The first overt act will be crushed with a heavy hand."

Then Calhoun remembered what both Worley and Warrenton had told him; that government spies were in the order, and that they knew not whom to trust. Would the spies of the government find out who he was, and his mission? It was not a very comforting thought.



CHAPTER XV.

OHO NE! OHO NE! OHO NE!

Monday Calhoun left for Detroit. Dr. Warrenton was on the train, but they met as strangers. When he reached the city and went to register at the Russell House, a gentleman was carelessly leaning against the desk talking with the clerk. He did not appear to notice Calhoun, but he had caught the word "Chic." after his name.

After a few moments the gentleman approached Calhoun and said: "Pardon me, but is not this Mr. Harrison of Kentucky?"

"My name is Harrison," answered Calhoun, "but if you would examine the register you would see I am from Chicago."

"Ah, yes, I understand," and he gave the secret sign of the order. "Come," he continued, "and let me introduce you to some friends."

He led the way to a room where there were several gentlemen seated smoking and talking, among them Dr. Warrenton, who gave him a warm greeting.

"I have been telling them about you," said Warrenton, "and they are all anxious to meet you."

The Doctor then introduced Calhoun to each member of the party. There was Wrightman of New York, Bowman of Indiana, Hartman of Missouri, Bullock of Kentucky, and others.

"You don't tell me you are the son of my old friend, Judge Pennington, of Danville," asked Mr. Bullock, as he shook Calhoun warmly by the hand.

"The very same," answered Calhoun.

"Gentlemen, we need have no fears of Lieutenant Pennington," exclaimed Mr. Bullock, addressing those present. "I will vouch for him with my life. Let's see, your name is now—"

"Harrison for the present," answered Calhoun, with a smile.

The party had no trouble in getting across the river, and that night there was a meeting in Windsor which boded ill for the Federal government.

The Supreme Commander of the order was a gentleman in the full vigor of manhood. He was polished in his manner, rather reserved, but every action showed that he was accustomed to command. Behind it all Calhoun thought that he detected the signs of an inordinate ambition—an ambition which would stop for nothing.

"Isn't he grand," whispered Dr. Warrenton to Calhoun. "A fit representative to wear the mantle of your great namesake."

"Better say the mantle of Aaron Burr," thought Calhoun, but he wisely did not give expression to his thought. The object of Calhoun's coming was fully explained, and it was decided by a unanimous vote, that he should receive the fourth degree, and thus be entitled to all the information which he wished.

The degree was duly conferred on him. Calhoun was now certain he was among a band of conspirators who would stop at nothing to achieve their ends.

"Is this the highest of the degrees?" asked Calhoun, when he was through.

The party exchanged meaning glances, and then the Supreme Commander said: "There is one more degree, but it is given only to the highest officers in the order, and would not be of the least advantage to you."

Calhoun was certain there was something which those present did not wish him to know—some object which they wished to keep secret.

The number of members in the order was now given to Calhoun. The figures astounded him. In Iowa there were twenty thousand members, in Missouri fifty thousand, in Illinois one hundred and twenty thousand, in Indiana one hundred thousand, in Ohio eighty thousand. Throughout the East the order was not so numerous. This seemed strange to Calhoun, for he thought that New York especially would be fertile ground for it.

"How many of these men are armed?" asked Calhoun.

The answer was: "In Missouri nearly all, in Illinois fifty thousand, in Indiana forty thousand, in Ohio the same, in Kentucky nearly all."

"Gentlemen," exclaimed Calhoun, with considerable warmth, "if these figures are correct, why have you not arisen before this, and hurled the Lincoln government from power? Pardon me, but it looks like timidity. The North is denuded of men, those loyal to Lincoln are in the army."

"That is what I have insisted on," cried Mr. Bowman, of Indiana, jumping to his feet in his excitement. "I say strike, strike now! We of Indiana are ready. Liberate the Confederate prisoners in Northern prison pens! We have arms for them. If necessary, give every Northern city over to the flames."

"Brother Bowman forgets," answered the Supreme Commander, "that our forces are scattered; that if we attempt to concentrate, the government will take alarm and crush us. At present we have to work in secret."

"But what if Indiana and Ohio should be invaded?" asked Calhoun.

"That would be different," was the answer.

"What if you should be successful in your plans?" asked Calhoun.

"Let the South go free. We firmly believe in the doctrine of States' Rights," was the answer.

"Would your states cast their lot with the South?" asked Calhoun, eagerly.

Again there were meaning glances among the leaders. "It is yet too early to answer that question," slowly replied the Supreme Commander, "or even to discuss it. The overthrow of the present Abolition government and the independence of the South is now our object."

But had the leaders a further object? Calhoun resolved to find out, and he did.

The conference at Windsor was over. It was resolved that the order should everywhere be strengthened, and that it should strike at the first favorable opportunity. That opportunity would come at once, should the North be invaded.

From Detroit Calhoun went to Columbus, Ohio, from there to Dayton, the home of Vallandigham. He found that that gentleman was the idol of that section. They wanted him to come home. They swore they would defend him with their lives. The whole country reeked with disloyalty to the Federal government.

Calhoun availed himself of the opportunity of talking with all classes of citizens. He especially tried to get at the feelings of the humbler members of the Knights of the Golden Circle, why they joined the order, and what they proposed doing. All the information he gleaned he treasured up.

From Dayton Calhoun proceeded to Indianapolis, where he was to meet Mr. Bowman. He found Indiana much better organized than any of the other states. Bowman was enthusiastic, and he seemed to hate the Lincoln government with his whole soul. He would stop at nothing to achieve his ends. But the especial object of his hatred was Governor Morton.

"I want to live long enough," he said, "to see that tyrant hanged for trampling on the constitution of the state."

Calhoun found that the Knights stood in great dread of Morton. They declared he had a way of finding out every secret of the order. If he had not been thoroughly guarded, his life would not have been worth a farthing.

Calhoun was taken into the country, where he witnessed the drilling of two or three companies of Knights. These meetings always took place at night, in some secret place, and sentinels were posted to guard against surprise. Calhoun talked with many of the members to get their ideas and to find out what they wished to accomplish.

"What do you think?" asked Bowman of Calhoun, after they had returned to Indianapolis. "I have forty thousand of those fellows."

"Will they fight?" asked Calhoun.

"Fight? Of course they will fight," was the answer. "Let Morgan get into the state, and you will see."

At Indianapolis Calhoun met with a wealthy farmer named Jones, who lived near Corydon. He had no words too severe to say of Lincoln, and boasted of the number of Knights in his part of the state.

"We are going to sweep the Black Abolitionists from the earth," he exclaimed, boastingly, "and hang Old Abe, and Morton too."

"What would you do if Morgan came?" asked Calhoun.

"Do? I would throw my hat in the air and yell until I was hoarse," was the answer.

"What if Morgan should want some of your horses?" asked Calhoun.

Mr. Jones's countenance fell. At length he mumbled, "Of course he would pay me for them?"

"Of course," replied Calhoun, in a tone which the old gentleman did not quite understand.

Just before Calhoun was ready to leave Indianapolis Bowman told him Morton was to hold a reception, and asked him if he would not like to attend and see the great War Governor.

Nothing would suit Calhoun better. He had a desire to see the man of whom he had heard so much—a man who had the majority of his legislature against him, yet held the state as in the hollow of his hand—a man who borrowed hundreds of thousands of dollars in his own name, that the soldiers of his state might be thoroughly equipped. He had overcome every difficulty, and held his state firmly for the Union. Now, with thousands of the citizens of the state secretly plotting against him, he moved serenely along the path he had marked out. Urged to adopt the most severe measures, he knew when, and when not, to make an arrest. He avoided angering his enemies except when the public safety demanded it. His very name caused every member of the Knights of the Golden Circle to tremble. Little did Calhoun think that when he promised to attend the governor's reception that Morton's detectives were already looking for him. The renewed activity of the Knights had aroused the Governor's suspicions, and he was not long in finding out the cause. To locate and arrest the Southern officer who was causing the ferment, was his order to his detectives.

A large crowd attended the reception, and in such a gathering Calhoun felt in no danger. He saw in Morton a thickset, heavy man with a massive head and brain. He looked every inch the intellectual giant that he was.

"The grandest figure," thought Calhoun, "that I have seen in the North. He is a man to beware of. No wonder the Knights stand in fear of him."

When Calhoun, passing along in the throng, took the Governor's hand, Morton bent his piercing look upon him, and the question came as if shot out of his mouth, "Where from, young man?"

The suddenness of the question threw Calhoun off his guard, and almost involuntarily he answered, "From Kentucky."

"From Kentucky, eh! And how goes it down there?"

Calhoun was himself again. "Of course," he answered, "we are greatly divided in that state, but all the powers of Jeff Davis cannot tear it from the Union."

"Good, pass on," and the Governor turned to the next in line.

But a feeling as of impending danger took possession of Calhoun. Why that question to him? He had heard it asked of no other. Could it be he was suspected? Forcing his way through the throng, he got out of the building as soon as possible.

It was well that he did so, for hardly had the Governor let go Calhoun's hand, when he motioned to General Carrington, and whispered to him: "Arrest that young man. Do it as quietly as possible, but see he does not get away. He is the Southern officer we have been looking for, I am sure. I have a full description of him."

General Carrington in turn whispered to a couple of quiet-looking men, dressed in citizen's clothes who stood near the Governor. They nodded, and started after Calhoun, who was now nearly lost to view in the crowd.

Once out of the building Calhoun found that hundreds of spectators had gathered out of curiosity. They were hurrahing for Lincoln and Morton, and shouting for the Union, and some were singing, "We'll hang Jeff Davis on a sour-apple tree."