General Nelson's Scout 2

General Nelson's Scout 2

"I deny it," hotly cried Calhoun; "you fellows who are always preaching

about the old flag are not the only ones who love the country. It is we

who are trying to keep it from becoming an instrument of oppression, of

coercion, who really love the old flag. But I know what is the matter

with you. Owing to the teachings of that Yankee mother of yours, you are

with the Abolitionists, nigger-stealers, the mud-sills of creation,

lower and meaner than our slaves. You had better go back to those

precious Yankee relatives of yours; you have no business in Kentucky

among gentlemen."

 

Frederic's eyes flashed. He raised his clenched hand convulsively; then,

with a tremendous effort, he controlled himself and slowly replied:

"Calhoun, we have always been friends and companions, more like brothers

than cousins; but if you value my friendship, if you do not wish me to

become your deadliest enemy, never speak disrespectfully of my mother

again. If you do, young as I am, I shall demand of you the satisfaction

one gentleman demands of another. This refused, I shall shoot you like a

dog."

 

For a moment Calhoun gazed in the countenance of his cousin in silence.

In the stern, set features, the dangerous gleam of the eye, he read the

truth of what he had heard. He was fully as brave as his cousin, and for

a moment a bitter and stinging reply trembled on his lips; then his

better nature conquered, and extending his hand, he said: "There, Fred;

I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, much less reflect on the memory of

your mother. From the North though she was, she was one of the best of

women, and you know I loved her almost as much as you did yourself, for

in many ways she was a mother to me. Forgive me, Fred."

 

Fred grasped the extended hand, and with tears in his eyes exclaimed, "I

might have known you did not mean it, Cal. You are too noble to say

aught of one who loved you as my mother did. Forgive my hasty words."

 

"There is nothing to forgive, Fred; you did just right."

 

For a moment the boys remained silent, and then Fred resumed: "Cal, we

must both try to be charitable. Simply to be for the North or the South

does not make one a gentleman. True manhood is not measured by one's

political belief. Your father is none the less a gentleman because he is

heart and soul with the South. Calhoun, dark and fearful days are

coming--have already come. Father will be against son, brother against

brother. Members of the same family will become the deadliest enemies.

Our beloved Kentucky will be rent and torn with warring factions, and

the whole land will tremble beneath the shock of contending armies.

Ruined homes will be everywhere; little children and women will flee to

the mountains for safety."

 

"Not if Kentucky enforces her position of neutrality," broke in Calhoun.

"The picture you draw is one you Unionists are trying to bring about.

We, who would enforce neutrality, would avoid it."

 

"Calhoun, don't be deceived. You know that in many parts of Kentucky it

is dangerous now for a Union man to express his sentiments. Hundreds of

Kentuckians have left to join the Confederate army. They do so boldly

with colors flying and drums beating. On our southern border, armies are

gathering ready to spring over at a moment's notice. Kentucky cannot, if

she would, remain neutral. I feel, I know, evil times are coming--are

now here. Calhoun, a few moments ago we came near having a deadly

quarrel. I shudder as I now think of it. What if we had quarreled! What

if one of us had killed the other, we who are like brothers! Oh,

Calhoun! let us swear eternal friendship to each other. Let us promise

to be careful and not say anything to each other that will rankle and

hurt. We know not what will come, what the future has in store for us,

or whither we shall be led. Let us swear to succor and save each other,

even at the peril of our lives, if necessary. Wherever we may meet, let

us meet as friends--each ready to protect the life and honor of the

other. Let us swear it."

 

"Fred," slowly replied Calhoun, "it is a very strange compact you ask.

It sounds like some old story of knight-errantry. You must be getting

romantic. But when I think of how near we came to flying at each other's

throats, if you are willing to make such a solemn compact, I am."

 

And there, on that July evening, under the spreading oak, the boys

clasped hands and took a solemn oath to stand by each other, come what

might; even unto death would they be true to each other.

 

Little did either think what would be the outcome of that strange

compact. Little did they realize that the day would come when that oath,

if kept, would lead both into the very jaws of death--an ignoble and

terrible death. That oath, under the spreading oak, on that July evening

between two boys, was to become the pivot around which the fate of

contending armies depended.

 

Calhoun was the first to speak after the making of the solemn compact.

"Fred," he exclaimed, "now that we have sworn eternal friendship, it

will not do for us to quarrel any more. Like the man and his wife they

tell about, 'we agree to disagree.' But see how restless our horses are.

They must be disgusted with our loitering. Let us have a race. See that

tree yonder, nearly a mile away, where the Danville and Nicholasville

roads cross? I can beat you to that tree, and if I do, the South wins."

 

"Done," cried Fred, for he had all the love of a true Kentucky boy for a

horse race. "Now, Prince," said he, as he unhitched his horse, and

patted his glossy neck, "you hear. This race is for the old flag. Win,

or never hold up your head again."

 

"Selim," cried Calhoun, "how do you like that? It is the cause of the

Sunny South that is at stake. Win, Selim, or I will sell you to the

meanest Abolitionist in the North."

 

Both boys vaulted into their saddles, and at the word their steeds were

away like the wind.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER II.

 

THE MEETING WITH NELSON.

 

 

Never was there a hotter race run in Kentucky. Neck and neck the horses

ran, neither seemingly able to gain an inch on the other. The goal grew

alarmingly near. Each rider bent over the neck of his flying steed, and

urged him on with word and spur. The tree was scarcely twenty yards

away. "Now, Prince, if ever," cried Fred. The horse seemed to

understand. With a tremendous effort, he plunged forward, and passed the

goal half a length ahead.

 

[Illustration: He plunged forward, and passed the Goal half-a-length

ahead.]

 

"Won!" cried Fred, but his huzzah died on his lips. The excitement of

the race had made the boys careless, and they ran into a squad of

horsemen who were passing along the other road. Fred came nearly

unhorsing the leader of the squad, a heavy-set, red-faced man with bushy

hair that stood up all around his large head. He was dressed in the

uniform of an officer of the United States navy. As for Calhoun, he

entirely unhorsed a black groom, who was bringing up the rear of the

squad.

 

The darky scrambled to his feet unhurt, and forgetting his fright in his

enthusiasm, shouted: "Golly, massa, dat was a race, suah. Dat a hoss

woth habin'." Like a true Kentucky negro, he loved a fine horse, and

gloried in a race.

 

But with the officer, it was different. As soon as he could quiet his

horse, he let fly such a volley of oaths that the boys sat on their

horses too dumfounded to say a word. The officer swore until he was out

of breath, and had to stop from sheer exhaustion.

 

At the first opportunity, Fred took off his hat and politely said:

 

"We beg a thousand pardons, sir, but I was racing for the old flag, and

had to win, even if I had had to run over the commander-in-chief of the

army, instead of a lieutenant of the navy."

 

"Lieutenant of the navy! lieutenant of the navy!" roared Nelson, for it

was he, "I will show you, young man, I command on dry land, as well as

on the water," and the air once more grew sulphurous.

 

"Really," dryly remarked Fred, "if you fight as well as you swear,

Kentucky will soon be clear of rebels."

 

Nelson's companions roared with laughter. As for Nelson, his face

twitched for a moment, and then he, too, commenced to laugh.

 

"It is a good thing for you, young man," he exclaimed, "that you don't

belong to the army or I would have you tied up by the thumbs. As it is,

will you tell me what you meant by saying that you were racing for the

old flag and had to win?"

 

"Why, sir, my cousin, here, challenged me for a race, saying if he won

the South would triumph; but if I won, the old flag would be victorious.

So you see, sir, I had to win, even if I had had to run clear over you.

You ought to thank me for winning the race, instead of swearing at me

for jostling your dignity a little."

 

Nelson chuckled.

 

All of this time Calhoun, after soothing his horse, had been a quiet

spectator of the scene. He felt nettled over losing the race, and was

not in the best of humor.

 

"So," said Nelson, turning to Calhoun, "you ran for the South to win,

did you? Might have known you would have been beaten. What have you got

to say for yourself, anyway, you ---- little rebel?"

 

Calhoun's eyes flashed. Drawing himself proudly up, he said: "I am no

rebel. I am a Kentuckian, and am for the neutrality of Kentucky."

 

"Neutrality of Kentucky," sneered Nelson; "of whom did you learn that

twaddle, youngster? Neutrality is a plea of cowards to hide their

disloyalty."

 

Calhoun grew deadly pale. He forgot everything in his passion, as he fairly hissed: