General Nelson's Scout 16

General Nelson's Scout 16

Shortly after his return to Dick Robinson, Fred began to long to hear

from home, to know how those he loved fared; so he asked General Thomas

for a day or two of absence. It was readily granted, and soon he was on

his way to Danville. He found only his Uncle and Aunt Pennington at

home. His father had gone South to accept the colonelcy of a regiment,

and was with Buckner. His cousin Calhoun had accompanied Colonel

Shackelford South, having the promise of a position on the staff of some

general officer. His little sister Bessie had been sent to Cincinnati to

a convent school. The adherents of the opposing factions were more

bitter toward each other than ever, and were ready to spring at each

other's throats at the slightest provocation. Neighbors were estranged,

families were broken, nevermore to be reunited; and over all there

seemed to be hanging the black shadow of coming sorrow. Kentucky was not

only to be deluged in blood, but with the hot burning tears of those

left behind to groan and weep.

 

Fred was received coldly by his uncle and aunt. "You know," said Judge

Pennington, "my house is open to you, but I cannot help feeling the

keenest sorrow over your conduct."

 

"I am sorry, very sorry, uncle, if what I have done has grieved you,"

answered Fred.

 

"No one can be really sorry who persists in his course," answered the

judge. "Fred, rather--yes, a thousand times--had I rather see you dead

than doing as you are. If my brave boy falls," and his voice trembled as

he spoke, "I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that he fell in a

glorious cause. But you, Fred, you----" his voice broke; he could say no

more.

 

Fred was deeply moved. "Uncle," he softly said, "I admit you are honest

and sincere in your belief. Why can you not admit as much for me? Why is

it a disgrace to fight for the old flag, to defend the Union that

Washington and Jefferson helped form, and that Jackson defended?"

 

"The wrong," answered Judge Pennington, "consists in trying to coerce

sovereign States. The Constitution gives any State the right to withdraw

from the Union at pleasure. The South is fighting for her constitutional

rights----"

 

"And for human slavery," added Fred.

 

The judge's cheeks flamed with anger.

 

"Look out, Fred," he exclaimed, choking with passion, "lest I drive you

from my door, despite my promise to your father. Don't go too far. You

are not only fighting against the South, but you are becoming a detested

Abolitionist--a nigger worshiper."

 

Fred felt his manhood aroused, but controlling his passion he calmly

replied:

 

"Uncle, I will not displease you longer with my presence. The time may

come when you may need my help, instead of my needing yours. If so, do

not hesitate to call on me. I still love my kindred as well as ever;

they are as near to me as ever. There is no dishonor in a man loyally

following what he honestly believes to be right. I believe you and my

father to be wrong--that your sympathies have led you terribly astray;

but in my sight you are none the less true, noble, honest men. As for

me, I answer for myself. I am for the Union, now and forever. Good-bye,

uncle! May God keep all of those we love from harm," and he rode away.

 

Judge Pennington gazed after him with a troubled look, and then murmured

to himself: "After all, a fine boy, a grand boy! A Kentuckian all over!

Would that he were on the right side!"

 

Upon Fred's return to headquarters he found General Thomas in deep

consultation with his staff. Circulars had been scattered all over the

State and notices printed in newspapers calling for a meeting of the

State Guards at Lexington on the 20th. Ostensibly the object of the

meeting was to be for a week's drill, and for the purpose of better

preparing the Guards to protect the interests of the State. But General

Thomas believed there was a hidden meaning in the call; that it was

conceived in deceit, and that it meant treachery. What this treachery

was he did not know, and it was this point he was discussing with his

staff when Fred entered. The sight of the boy brought a smile to his

face.

 

"Ah, my boy!" he exclaimed, "I am glad to see you. We have a hard

problem; it is one rather in your line. I trust you can solve it."

 

He then laid the circular before Fred, and expressed his opinion that it

contained a hidden meaning. "There is no end to those fellows'

plottings," he said, "and we are still weak, very weak here. With

General Zollicoffer moving this way from Cumberland Gap, it would not

take much of a force in our rear to cause a great disaster. In fact, a

hostile force at Lexington, even if small, would be a serious matter."

 

Fred read the circular carefully, as if reading between the lines, and

then asked:

 

"It is the real meaning of this call that you wish?"

 

"By all means, if it can be obtained," answered the general.

 

"I will try to obtain it," replied Fred, quietly. "General you may not

hear from me for two or three days."

 

"May success attend you, my boy," replied the general, kindly, and with

this he dismissed his staff.

 

"It has come to a pretty pass," said a dapper young lieutenant of the

staff to an older member, "that the general prefers a boy to one of us,"

and he drew himself proudly up, as if to say, "Now, if the general had

detailed me, there might have been some hopes of success."

 

The older member smiled, and answered: "I think it just as well,

Lieutenant, that he chose the boy. I don't think either you or me fitted

for that kind of work."

 

The lieutenant sniffed and walked off.

 

Again a black-haired, dark-skinned boy left headquarters at Dick

Robinson, this time for Lexington. Arriving there, Fred took a room at

the leading hotel, registering as Charles Danford, Cincinnati, thinking

it best to take an entirely fictitious name. He soon learned that the

leading Southern sympathizers of the city were in the habit of meeting

in a certain room at the hotel. He kept very quiet, for there was one

man in Lexington he did not care to meet, and that man was Major

Hockoday. He knew that the major would recognize him as the boy he met

at Georgetown, and that meant the defeat of his whole scheme. Fred's

first step was to make friends with the chamber maid, a comely mulatto

girl. This he did with a bit of flattery and a generous tip. By adroit

questioning, he learned that the girl had charge of the room in which

the meetings of the conspirators were held.

 

Could she in any manner secrete him in the room during one of the

meetings?

 

The girl took alarm. "No, youn' massa, no!" she replied, trembling.

 

"Not for five dollars?"

 

"Not fo' fiv' 'undred," answered the girl. "Massa kill me, if he foun'

it out."

 

Fred saw that she could not be bribed; he would have to try a new tack.

"See here, Mary," he asked, "you would like to be free, would you not,

just like a white girl?"

 

"Yes, massa, I woul' like dat."

 

"You have heard of President Lincoln, have you not?"

 

The girl's eyes lit up with a sudden fire. "Yes, Massa Linkun good; he

want to free we 'uns. All de niggers talkin' 'bout dat."

 

"Mary, I am a friend of Lincoln. One of his great men sent me here. The

men who meet in that room are his enemies. They want to kill him."

 

The girl's eyes opened wide with terror.

 

"I am here trying to find out their plans, so we can keep them from

killing Mr. Lincoln. Mary, you must help me, or you will be blamed for

what may happen, and you will never be free."

 

The girl began to cry. "Massa will whip me to death, if he foun' it

out," she blubbered.

 

"Your master will never find it out, even if I am discovered, for I will

never tell on you."

 

"Dat so, massa?"

 

"Yes; I will swear it on the Bible."

 

Like most of her race, the girl was very superstitious, and had great

reverence for the Bible. She went and brought one, and with his hand on

the book Fred took a most solemn oath never to betray her--no, not if he

was torn to pieces with red-hot pincers.

 

Along toward night she came and whispered to Fred that she had been

told to place the room in order. There was, she said, but one place to

hide, and that was behind a large sofa, which stood across one corner of

the room. It was a perilous hiding place, but Fred resolved to risk it.

"They can but kill me," thought he, "and I had almost as soon die as

fail."

 

It was getting dark when Mary unlocked the door of the room and let Fred

slip in. He found that by lying close to the sofa, he might escape

detection, though one should glance over the top.

 

The minutes passed like hours to the excited boy. The slightest noise

startled him, and he found himself growing nervous, and in spite of all

his efforts, a slight tremor shook his limbs. At last he heard

foot-falls along the hall, the door was unlocked, and some one entered

the room. It was the landlord, who lit the gas, looked carefully around,

and went out. Soon the room began to fill. Fred's nervousness was all

gone; but his heart beat so loudly that he thought it must be heard. It

was a notable gathering of men distinguished not only in State but

national affairs. Chief among them was John C. Breckinridge, as knightly

and courteous as ever; then there were Colonel Humphrey Marshall, John

H. Morgan, Colonel Preston, and a score of others. These men had

gathered for the purpose of dragging Kentucky out of the Union over the

vote of her citizens, and in spite of her loyal Legislature. In their

zeal they threw to the winds their own beloved doctrine of State

rights, and would force Kentucky into the Southern Confederacy whether

she wanted to go or not. Yet they were men of the highest character. They believed the South was right, that it was their duty to defend her,and that any means were lawful to bring about the desired end.