General Nelson's Scout 32

General Nelson's Scout 32

It was not the city that Fred saw in August. Then it was wild and

hilarious with joy, carried away with the pomp and glory of war.

Zollicoffer was the idol of the people of Tennessee; Bailie Peyton of

its young men. That both should fall in the same battle plunged

Nashville in deepest mourning.

 

When the bodies arrived, it was a city of tears. Flags floated at

half-mast; women walked the streets wringing their hands and weeping

bitter tears. Their idols lay dead. Poor Nashville! She was to drink

still deeper of the bitter cup of war.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XV.

 

A FIGHT WITH GUERRILLAS.

 

 

Back over the ten miles that they had marched through the darkness and

rain, the Confederate army fled in the wildest confusion. Swift in

pursuit came the victorious army of Thomas. Before night his cannon were

shelling the entrenchments at Beech Grove. There was no rest for the

hungry, weary, despondent Confederates. In the darkness of the night

they stole across the river, and then fled, a demoralized mob, leaving

everything but themselves in the hands of the victors.

 

The next morning an officer came to Fred and said one of the prisoners

would like to see him.

 

"One of the prisoners would like to see me," asked Fred, in surprise.

"What for?"

 

"I don't know," answered the officer. "But he is a plucky chap; it's the

young lieutenant who headed the last rally of the Rebs. He fought until

he was entirely deserted by his men and surrounded by us; he then tried

to cut his way out, but his horse was shot and he captured."

 

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Fred. "It must be Calhoun," and he rushed to

where the prisoners were confined.

 

"Calhoun!"

 

"Fred!"

 

And the boys were in each other's arms.

 

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

 

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

 

"No," said Fred; "like St. Paul, I will say 'except these bonds.' But

Calhoun, I must have a good long talk with you in private."

 

"Not much privacy here, Fred," said Calhoun, looking around at the crowd

that was staring at them.

 

Fred went to General Thomas and told him that his cousin was among the

prisoners, and asked permission to take him to his quarters. The

permission was readily given, and the boys had the day and night to

themselves.

 

How they did talk, and how much they had to tell each other! First Fred

had to tell Calhoun all about himself.

 

When he had finished Calhoun grasped his hand and exclaimed: "Fred, I am

proud of you, if you are fighting with the Yanks. How I would like to

ride by your side! But of all your adventures, the one with poor Robert

Ferror touches me deepest. Poor fellow! he should have lived. He must

have had a great deal of pure gold about him, notwithstanding his

cowardly crime."

 

"He did," sighed Fred, "he did; and yet I can never think of the

assassination of Captain Bascom without a shudder. On the other hand, I

can never think of Ferror's death without tears. As I think of him now,

I am of the opinion that the indignities heaped upon him had, in a

measure, unbalanced his mind, and that the killing of Bascom was the act

of an insane person. But, Cal, I hate to talk about it; that night of

horrors always gives me the shivers. So tell me all about yourself."

 

"There is not much to tell," answered Calhoun. "You know I left Danville

with your father for Bowling Green. Owing to the influence of my father,

I was commissioned a second lieutenant and given a place on the staff of

Governor Johnson. You know a provisional State government was organized

at Bowling Green, and G. M. Johnson appointed Governor. When General

Buckner tried to capture Louisville by surprise, and you objected by

throwing the train off the track, I was one of the victims of the

outrage. I recognized you, just as your father ordered the volley

fired."

 

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

me?"

 

"Yes; but he did not know it was you when he gave the order. When I

called out it was you, he nearly fainted, and would have fallen if one

of his officers had not caught him. He wanted to resign then and there,

but General Buckner would not hear of it. Really, Fred, I think he would

have ordered that volley even if he had known you; but if you had been

killed, he would have killed himself afterward."

 

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

 

"Well," continued Calhoun, "to make a long story short, I became

prodigiously jealous of you. You were covering yourself with glory while

I was sitting around doing nothing. It was awful dull at Bowling Green.

As Zollicoffer appeared to be the only one of the Confederate generals

who was at all active, I asked and received permission to join him,

where I was given a roving commission as a scout. If I do say it, I made

it rather lively for you fellows. At length I hit upon a nice little

plan of capturing your pickets, and was quite successful until you found

it out and put an end to my fun."

 

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

night fight?"

 

"It was, and you came near making an end of your hopeful cousin, I can

tell you. Out of seven men, I had two killed and four wounded. Only one

man and myself escaped unhurt, and I had three bullet holes through my

clothes. That put an end to my raids upon your pickets, and I confined

myself to scouting once more. Then came that unlucky fight with you in

the woods. Fred, I must congratulate you on the way you managed that.

Your retreat showed me your exact strength, and I thought I could wipe

you off the face of the earth. Your sudden wheel and charge took us

completely by surprise, and disconcerted my men. That shot which cut my

bridle rein took me out of the fight, and perhaps it was just as well

for me that it did. When I came to and found out what had been done, I

at once knew you must have been in command of the squad, and if I could

I would have hugged you for your generosity."

 

"Cal," replied Fred, his voice trembling with emotion, "you can hardly

realize my feelings when I saw you lying pale and senseless there before

me; it took all the fight out of me."

 

"I know, I know," answered Calhoun, laying his hand caressingly on

Fred's shoulder. "I was badly shaken up by that fall, but not seriously

hurt. Now, comes the most dangerous of my adventures. When I met you in

the road, I----"

 

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

your scouting expeditions."

 

A curious look came over Calhoun's face, and then he said, in a low

voice: "You are right, Fred; I was on one of my scouting expeditions,"

and he shuddered slightly.

 

"Fred," suddenly asked Calhoun, "is there any possible way for me to

keep from going to prison?"

 

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

can be done."

 

The next morning General Thomas sent for Fred, and said that he was

about to send some dispatches to General Buell at Louisville. "And,"

continued he, "owing to your splendid conduct and the value of the

services you have rendered, I have selected you as the messenger. Then,

in all probability, it will be very quiet in my front for some time,

and General Nelson may have more active work for you. You know," he

concluded with a smile, "I only have the loan of you."

 

Fred heartily thanked the general for the honor bestowed, and then said:

"General, I have a great boon to ask."

 

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

 

"You know my cousin is here a prisoner. He is more like a brother than a

cousin--the only brother I ever knew. The boon I ask is that you grant

him a parole."

 

"Bring him here," said the general.

 

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

 

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

 

"Yes, sir; Lieutenant Calhoun Pennington of Governor Johnson's staff,"

answered Calhoun, with dignity.

 

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

the general.

 

"I was here on special duty."

 

"Lieutenant, your cousin has asked as a special favor that you be

granted a parole. He says that you reside in Danville, and as he is

going to Louisville, he would like to have you accompany him as far as

your home."

 

"General," answered Calhoun, "you would place me under a thousand

obligations if you would grant me a parole; but only on one condition,

and that is that you effect my exchange as quickly as possible."

 

The general smiled. "I see," said he, "that you and Shackelford are

alike; never satisfied unless you are in the thickest of the fray. I

think I can satisfy you."

 

The parole was made out, and Fred and Calhoun made preparations to start

for Danville. Never did two boys enjoy a ride more than they did.

 

In spite of bad roads and bad weather, the exuberance of their spirits

knew no bounds. They were playmates again, without a word of difference

between them. As far as they were concerned, the clouds of war had

lifted, and they basked in the sunlight of peace.

 

"I say, Fred," remarked Calhoun, "this is something like it; seems like

old times. Why did this war have to come and separate us?" Fred sighed. "The war, Calhoun," he answered, "has laid a heavier hand on me than on you, for it has made me an outcast from home."