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CHAPTER VIII.
THE CAPTURE OF GALLATIN

Morgan’s command had not been encamped at Livingston more than two or three days when, to every one’s astonishment, a couple of soldiers belonging to Captain Mathews’s company came riding into camp, one on Fred Shackelford’s famous horse, Prince, and the other on a well-known horse of Colonel Shackelford’s, called Blenheim.

Calhoun, hearing the cheering and laughter which greeted the soldiers as they galloped in waving their hats and shouting, ran out of his quarters to see what was occasioning the excitement. He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw the well-known horse of Fred. Then his heart gave a great jump, for the thought came to him that his cousin had been waylaid and killed. But if so, how did the soldiers come to have Blenheim too? To his relief he soon learned the truth of the story, how from Crab Orchard Captain Mathews had sent back two of his company to capture Prince, and they had returned not only with Prince, but with Blenheim. Mathews was in high spirits as he appropriated Prince. Jumping on his back he galloped him through camp, showing off his fine points, and declaring he could outrun any horse in the brigade. A match was soon arranged, but Prince so easily outstripped every competitor that soon no officer was found who had the hardihood to enter his horse in the lists against him.

Blenheim was awarded to Conway, much to his satisfaction. He could not forego the opportunity of crowing over Calhoun, thinking he would be vexed over the capture of his cousin’s horse.

“Why do you come blowing around me?” asked Calhoun, nettled by his manner, “I am neither the keeper of my cousin nor the keeper of his horse.”

“Oh, you were so careful of his precious person when I took him prisoner, I did not know but your carefulness might extend to his horse,” replied Conway, with a sneer.

Calhoun felt his blood boil, but controlling himself, he replied: “You did not take Captain Shackelford, and I am surprised that you should make such a statement. You forget that I was there before you.”

“You would have let the fellow go,” snapped Conway.

“Just as Colonel Morgan did, on his parole,” answered Calhoun.

“It was your fault that he slipped through my fingers,” exclaimed Conway, angrily, “but my time will come. I have swore to see him hanged before this war is over, and I shall.”

“Catch your rabbit before you skin him, Captain,” replied Calhoun, with provoking coolness; and the laugh was on Conway, who turned away with a muttered oath.

Conway had entertained a secret dislike to Calhoun ever since their first meeting, partly because he had been chosen by Morgan, instead of Conway himself, to go back to Kentucky, and partly on account of his being Fred’s cousin. But after the affair at Colonel Shackelford’s house, he took little pains to conceal his dislike. Many of the officers of the brigade noticed this, and predicted that sooner or later there would be trouble between the two.

But Calhoun was not through with being bantered over the capture of Prince. Captain Mathews came riding up and with a flourish said: “Ah! Lieutenant, I reckon you have seen this hoss before; what do you think of him?” Now, Mathews was a rough, rollicking fellow, and quite a favorite in the command. He and Calhoun were good friends, and so Calhoun answered pleasantly: “He is the best horse in Kentucky. I know it, for I was once beaten by him in a race. But,” continued Calhoun, with a laugh, “my advice is to guard him very carefully, or Captain Shackelford will get him back, sure. That horse has more tricks than you dream of.”

“I am not worrying,” replied Mathews. “One of your scouts has just had to fork over five dollars to one of my men, on a bet they made at Crab Orchard that I could not get the hoss. Perhaps you would like to bet I can’t keep him?”

“Yes, I will go you twenty-five that Captain Shackelford will have his horse back in less than two months,” answered Calhoun, dryly.

“Done!” exclaimed the Captain, gleefully, and the stakes were placed in the hands of Captain Huffman. The bet afforded much amusement to the officers, but all of them looked upon it as a very foolish bet on the part of Calhoun.

“That twenty-five is gone,” said Huffman to Calhoun, as he pocketed the stakes, “but I am sure of having fifty dollars for at least two months.”

“I reckon I shall lose,” said Calhoun, “but Mathews had better not let Shackelford get sight of his horse.”

“Why?” asked a dozen voices in concert.

“Because that horse is up to more antics than a trick horse in a circus. You will see, if we ever run across my cousin in our raids.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said one of the officers, “but your cousin will have a fine time getting that horse away from Jim Mathews.”

“Wait and see,” was Calhoun’s answer.

It was not many days before they knew what Calhoun meant. A few days sufficed to rest Morgan’s command, and it was not the nature of Morgan to remain long idle. He had to be doing something. It was known that the Confederate armies were about ready to make the long-talked-of forward movement into Kentucky. In fact, General Kirby Smith had already set out from Knoxville to invade Eastern Kentucky, and General Bragg was nearly ready to take the initiative from Chattanooga.

The Federal army in Tennessee was scattered, and owing to the raids of Morgan and Forrest, the men were on short rations. General Buell was at his wits’ end. He knew that General Bragg was preparing to advance, but thought he would not attempt the invasion of Kentucky before attacking him. He therefore looked for a great battle somewhere in Middle Tennessee, and concentrated his forces for that event.

Before Bragg moved, Morgan decided to strike another blow at the Louisville and Nashville Railroad, and this time right under the noses of the Federal army. Gallatin is only twenty-six miles from Nashville, and Morgan decided to attempt its capture. In order to spy out the land, Calhoun entered the place as a country lad. He found that it was garrisoned by a Federal force of about four hundred, under the command of Colonel Boone. The discipline was lax. In the daytime no pickets were out, and Calhoun found no difficulty in entering the place. He made himself known to a few of the citizens, and they gave him all the information possible. To them the coming of Morgan meant deliverance from a hateful foe.

It did not take Calhoun long to find out the station of every picket at night. The camp of the Federals was on the fair-ground, half a mile from the city. Colonel Boone was accustomed to sleep at a hotel in the city; in fact, his wife was sick at the hotel. Colonel Boone knew that Morgan was near, and was fearful of an attack. He telegraphed both to Nashville and to General Buell at MacMinnville for reinforcements, but no attention was paid to his demand. Instead, he was ordered to send nearly half of his force away to intercept a drove of beef cattle which it was reported the Confederates were driving down from Kentucky.

That the citizens might not know that his numbers were depleted, Colonel Boone did not send this force away until midnight, thinking no one would see them depart. But sharp eyes were watching. Nothing was going on in Gallatin without Calhoun’s knowledge. He lost no time in reporting to Morgan, and the attack came swiftly.

Knowing the location of every picket post, Calhoun was able to effect their capture without the firing of a gun, and Morgan rode into Gallatin without the knowledge of the Federal force, which was only half a mile away. Colonel Boone was captured at the hotel. The first intimation he had that Morgan was in the city was when he was commanded by Calhoun to surrender. A demand was now made on the camp that it should surrender, which it did. Thus without firing a gun Gallatin, with the entire Federal garrison and all the military stores which it contained, was captured.

Losing no time, Morgan ordered the companies of Captain Mathews and Captain Conway, together with Calhoun’s scouts, to take the stockade which guarded the tunnel six miles north of town. The attack was successful, the stockade surrendering after a slight resistance. The tunnel was now in the possession of the Confederates.

A long train of cars which had been captured was piled with wood, rails, and other combustibles, set on fire, and run into the tunnel. The sides and roof of the tunnel were supported by heavy woodwork, and the whole tunnel was soon a roaring mass of flame. The wood being burned away the tunnel caved in, and it was months before a train ran through from Louisville to Nashville. Morgan had effectually blocked the road. Highly elated with their success, the command returned to Gallatin, Mathews and Conway riding at the head of the column. To Calhoun was committed the care of the prisoners, and he brought up the rear.

When about half-way to Gallatin, Calhoun heard the report of a single pistol shot in front, then a rapid succession of rifle shots. The head of the column seemed to be thrown into confusion, and the whole command came to a halt.

Fearful that an attack had been made by a Federal force coming from Nashville, Calhoun gave orders to shoot down the first prisoner who attempted to escape, and prepared to resist any attack that might come. But no more firing was heard, and the column began to move again. Soon an officer came riding back and told Calhoun a story that interested him greatly.

Mathews and Conway were riding at the head of the column, when, as it reached a cross-road, a peculiar sharp whistle suddenly pierced the air. Mathews’s horse gave a prodigious bound, unseated his rider, and dashed up the cross-road. Conway’s horse bolted, and in spite of Conway’s efforts, followed.

A boy sprang out of the bushes into the road, and Mathews’s horse stopped by his side. He fired at Conway, hitting him in the shoulder. To save himself from being shot again, Conway flung himself from his horse. The boy sprang onto Mathews’s horse and rode away at full speed, followed by the other horse. An ineffectual volley was fired at the boy. Captain Mathews’s arm was broken by the fall.

“So Captain Mathews has lost his horse?” asked Calhoun, with a faint smile.

“Yes, he will quit blowing now.”

“And I have won twenty-five dollars; but I am sorry Mathews had his arm broken.”

When Calhoun reached Gallatin, Captain Conway had had his wound dressed, and Mathews’s arm was in splints. Conway was in a towering passion. He blamed Calhoun for his ill-luck, saying if it had not been for him, Fred Shackelford would have been hanged as a spy. From this time he did not try to conceal his hatred of Calhoun.

Captain Mathews took his misfortune more philosophically. “It was a blamed sharp trick on the part of young Shackelford!” he exclaimed. Then turning to Captain Huffman, he said: “Give that money to Lieutenant Pennington; he has won it. But I give you all fair warning I shall get that hoss back. My reputation depends upon it. Then to think that I, who prided myself on being one of the best hossmen in Morgan’s troop, should be thrown. Bah! it makes me sick,” and his face took on a look of disgust.

“I warned you,” said Calhoun, “that that horse was up to tricks. When Fred gives that whistle he will unhorse any rider who is on his back. I have seen Fred try it time and time again with his father’s nigger boys as riders, and Prince never failed of unhorsing them. When Fred gave that whistle his horse would have gone to him, or died in the attempt.”

“I am sorry you didn’t let Conway hang him,” replied Mathews, gently rubbing his broken arm, “but I will get even with him, see if I don’t. I want that hoss worse than ever.”

A few days after the capture of Gallatin, a Federal force moved up from Nashville, reoccupied the city, committed many depredations, and began arresting the citizens right and left, accusing them of complicity with Morgan. When Morgan heard of this he at once moved to the relief of the distressed city. Attacking the rear guard of the enemy as it was leaving the place, he not only defeated them, but drove them to within seven miles of Nashville, capturing the force at Pilot Knob, and burning the high railroad trestle at that place. He also captured a train of cars and liberated forty of the citizens of Gallatin who were being taken to Nashville as prisoners. They had been used with the greatest cruelty by their captors.

In this raid Morgan captured nearly two hundred prisoners. Notwithstanding the provocation was great, considering the way the citizens of Gallatin had been used, Morgan treated his prisoners kindly and paroled them.

The Federal authorities, now being thoroughly alarmed, resolved to crush Morgan. To this end a brigade of cavalry was organized at MacMinnville, placed under the command of General R. W. Johnson, and sent against him. Johnson thought that Morgan was at Hartsville, and marched against that place. But when he reached Hartsville and learned that Morgan was at Gallatin, he at once marched to attack him there, confident of easy victory.

Up to this time the Federals had boasted that Morgan would not fight anything like an equal force; that he always attacked isolated posts with overwhelming numbers. They were now to learn something different. Morgan had been kept well posted by Calhoun and his scouts with regard to every movement of Johnson. Although he knew that he was greatly outnumbered, Morgan resolved to give battle and teach the boasting Yankees a lesson.

Early on the morning of August 21 Calhoun came galloping into Gallatin with the information that Johnson was close at hand. To avoid fighting a battle in the city Morgan moved out on the Hartsville pike, meeting the enemy about two miles from Gallatin. The engagement opened at once with fury. Up to that time it was the greatest engagement fought in the West in which cavalry only was engaged.

For a time the Federals fought bravely, and for an hour the issue of the battle was doubtful; then a charge stampeded a portion of the Federal forces. Thoroughly panic-stricken they threw away guns, accoutrements, everything that impeded their progress, thinking only of safety in flight. Plunging into the Cumberland River, they forded it and did not stop running until they reached Nashville.

The remaining Federal force under General Johnson retreated about two miles, and then made a brave stand. But nothing could withstand the fury of Colonel Basil Duke’s attack, whose command had the advance. General Johnson and many of his men were taken prisoners, and the remainder were scattered.

In this engagement the Federals lost two hundred men, killed, wounded, and missing. Their general himself was a prisoner. Thus, to their cost, they found that when the occasion demanded it Morgan would fight. Morgan’s loss in the battle was only five killed and twenty wounded; but among the latter was the brave Captain Huffman, who had an arm shattered.

Colonel Basil Duke, in this fight, won the highest praise from Morgan for the masterly manner in which he handled his regiment. It was greatly owing to the efforts of Colonel Duke that the victory was won.

In this battle Calhoun bore a conspicuous part. Single-handed he engaged a Federal officer who was trying to rally his men, and forced him to surrender. When he delivered up his sword Calhoun saw to his surprise that it was his old acquaintance, Lieutenant Haines.

“Ah, Lieutenant,” said Calhoun, “I am glad to have met you again. When the battle is over I will come and see you.”

“Pennington again, as I am alive!” gasped the astonished Lieutenant.

After all was over Calhoun sought him out, and found him sitting dejected and crestfallen among the prisoners.

“Cheer up, Lieutenant,” said Calhoun, pleasantly; “we are going to parole you. You will soon be at liberty.”

“How often do you want to parole a fellow? This will be the third time,” growled Haines. “Curse the luck. I thought we would wipe you off the face of the earth sure this time. We would, too, if it hadn’t been for that cowardly regiment which broke.”

“An ‘if’ has stood in between many a man and success,” answered Calhoun. “How long ago were you exchanged?”

“About two months,” replied Haines, “and here I am in for it again. I expected to win a captaincy to-day. If this is the way it goes, I shall die a lieutenant.”

“Oh, you may wear the star of a general yet, who knows? To change the subject, have you met the charming Miss Osborne since your return to the army?”

A change came over the face of Haines – one that transformed his rather handsome features into those of a malignant spirit. Calhoun saw it and wondered. The Lieutenant quickly recovered himself, and answered:

“Yes, but trouble has come upon the family. Mr. Osborne refused to take the oath of allegiance, and as he was looked upon as a dangerous character, he has been sent North as a prisoner.”

“To wear his life away in some Northern bastile!” exclaimed Calhoun, in a fury. “Monstrous!”

“That is not all,” returned Haines. “By some means the house took fire and burned with all its contents. I did all I could for them – tried to save Mr. Osborne, but could not; but I will not relax my efforts to have him released. I have some powerful friends in the North.”

Calhoun thanked him, and went his way. But that look which came over Haines’s face, what did it mean? It was months before Calhoun knew.

CHAPTER IX.
THE DUEL

In August, 1862, Cumberland Gap, the gateway between Eastern Kentucky and East Tennessee, was held by a Federal force of over ten thousand, commanded by General George W. Morgan. It was this force which confronted General Kirby Smith as he set out to invade Kentucky.

The place being too strong to carry by assault, General Smith left a force in front of the Gap to menace it, made a flank movement with the rest of his army, passed through Roger’s Gap unopposed, and without paying any attention to the force at Cumberland Gap, pushed on with all speed for Central Kentucky.

At the same time General Bragg made his long-expected advance from Chattanooga, completely deceiving Buell, who first concentrated his army at Altamont and then at MacMinnville. Bragg marched unopposed up the Sequatchie Valley to Sparta. General George H. Thomas had advised Buell to occupy Sparta, but the advice was rejected. Buell could not, or would not, see that Kentucky was Bragg’s objective point. He now believed that Nashville or Murfreesboro was the point of danger, and he concentrated his army at the latter place.

From Sparta General Bragg had marched to Carthage, crossed the Cumberland River, and was well on his way to Kentucky before Buell waked up. Bragg was then three days ahead of him. If Bragg had marched straight for Louisville, there would have been no troops to oppose him until he reached that place, and Louisville would have fallen. But he stopped to take Mumfordsville, and the delay was fatal. It gave Buell the opportunity to overtake him.

When the forward movement began, Colonel John H. Morgan was ordered to Eastern Kentucky to watch the force at Cumberland Gap and prevent it from falling on the rear of the army of General Smith. Smith moved rapidly, and on August 29 fought the battle of Richmond, where a Federal force of seven thousand was almost annihilated, only about eight hundred escaping.

By the movements of Smith and Bragg the Federal force at Cumberland Gap was cut off. For that army the situation was a grave one. In their front was General Stevenson with a force too small to attack, but large enough to keep them from advancing. In their rear were the Confederate armies. They were short of food; starvation stared them in the face. It was either surrender or a retreat through the mountains of Eastern Kentucky.

General George W. Morgan called a council of his officers, and it was decided to evacuate the Gap and attempt the retreat. The Gap was evacuated on the night of the 17th of September. All government property which could not be carried away was given to the flames. The rough mountain road had been mined, and the mines were exploded to prevent Stevenson from following. But as Stevenson’s force was infantry, it would be of little avail in following the retreating Federals.

A toilsome march of two hundred and twenty miles over rough mountainous roads lay between the Federals and the Ohio River. To the credit of General G. W. Morgan be it said, he conducted the retreat with consummate skill. It was expected that a Confederate force in Eastern Kentucky under General Humphrey Marshall would try to cut the Federals off; but Marshall never appeared, and it was left to the brigade of John H. Morgan to do what they could to oppose the retreat. One cavalry brigade could not stop the progress of ten thousand well-disciplined troops. Day after day Morgan hung on the Federal flanks and rear, taking advantage of every opening, and making their way a weary one. After a toilsome march of sixteen days, the Federal force, footsore and completely exhausted, reached the Ohio at Greenupsburg on the Ohio River, and was safe.

During these sixteen days, Calhoun was almost continually in the saddle, the foremost to strike, the last to retreat. When the pursuit was ended, his little band of scouts had seventy-five prisoners to their credit.

When Morgan saw that it was useless to follow the retreating army any longer, without taking any rest he turned the head of his column toward Central Kentucky, for he knew he would be needed there.

Calhoun could hardly believe his eyes when he saw the change a few weeks had effected. All Central Kentucky had been swept clear of the Federals. Panic-stricken they had fled back to Louisville and Cincinnati, and were cowering in their trenches. Indiana and Ohio were in an agony of fear. The governors were frantically calling on the people to arise en masse and save their states from invasion.

When the command reached Danville, Calhoun was nearly beside himself with joy. Over the courthouse floated the Stars and Bars of the South. It was the first time Calhoun had ever seen there the flag he loved so well. With a proud hurrah he dashed up to the door of his father’s residence; there was no one to molest him or make him afraid. From the house of every friend of the South hung a Confederate flag.

“Redeemed! Kentucky redeemed at last!” shouted Calhoun, as he dismounted.

But he was disappointed in not finding his father at home. The Judge was in Frankfort, helping to form a provisional government for the state. Many of the more sanguine of the Southern element of the state already considered it safe in the Confederacy.

Although his father was not at home, Calhoun received a most joyful welcome. “Bress de chile, if he isn’t bac’ again,” cried Aunt Chloe.

“Yes, Chloe,” said Calhoun, as he shook her honest black hand, “and now be sure and get up one of your best dinners, I can eat it in peace this time. And, Chloe, cook enough for a dozen; Colonel Morgan, with his staff, will be here to dine.”

But what Morgan’s command learned was anything but satisfactory. Kirby Smith had advanced to within six miles of Covington, there halted, and at last fallen back. Bragg, instead of marching direct to Louisville, had turned aside to Bardstown, allowing Buell’s army to enter the city of Louisville unopposed. There Buell had been joined by twenty thousand fresh troops. Clothing and refitting his men, he had turned, and was now marching on Bardstown. A great battle might be fought any day. In fact, it was reported that Bragg had already abandoned Bardstown and was marching in the direction of Danville or Harrodsburg.

“I don’t like it at all,” said Morgan. “Our generals have already let the golden opportunity pass. But there is still hope. With the armies of Bragg and Smith united, they should be strong enough to give battle and crush Buell.”

So good was the dinner and so animated the discussion, that it was late in the afternoon when they arose from the table. As they came out Morgan suddenly stopped and said, “Hark!”

Away in the northwest, in the direction of Perryville, the dull heavy booming of cannon was heard. They listened and the dull roar, like distant thunder, was continuous.

“A battle is being fought,” they said, in low tones; “May God favor the right!”

At Perryville the forces of Buell and Bragg had met, and were engaged in deadly strife. Until nightfall the heavy dull roar was heard, and then it died away. Which army had been victorious? They could not tell.

After the battle of Perryville, Buell, fully expecting that Bragg would fight a decisive battle for the possession of the state, remained inactive for three days for the purpose of concentrating his army. It was fatal to all his hopes, for Bragg had already decided to leave the state, and he utilized the three days in getting away with his immense trains. He had been grievously disappointed in the hope that his army would be largely recruited, and that at least twenty thousand Kentuckians would flock to his standard. But Kentucky had already been well drained of men, furnishing troops by thousands for both sides.

From one point of view, the invasion of Kentucky by the Confederates had been a magnificent success. A loss of at least twenty thousand had been inflicted on the Federal armies, while the loss of the Confederate army had not been over one-third of that number. In addition to that, the immense stores gathered and taken South were of inestimable value to the army. But in the chagrin and disappointment over Bragg’s retreat these things were lost sight of and the Confederate general was most bitterly denounced.

Calhoun went wild when he heard that the state was to be given up without a decisive battle, that all that had been gained was to go for naught; and his feelings were shared by all Morgan’s men.

“It won’t prevent us from visiting the state once in a while,” said Morgan, with a grim smile.

As for Judge Pennington, he was so disgusted that although his whole heart was with the South, he gave up all idea of forming a state government loyal to the Confederacy, and remained quiet during the rest of the war. “The armies will have to settle it,” he would say; “we can do nothing here.”

One of the first things that Calhoun did after he reached Danville was to see Jennie Freeman and thank her for her timely warning. “It was kind of you, Jennie,” he said, “for I know that you hate the cause for which I am fighting.”

“My conscience has hurt me awfully ever since,” replied Jennie, with a toss of her head; “and then I believe you told me an awful fib.”

“Why, how is that, Jennie?” asked Calhoun.

“You worked on my sympathy, and said if you were caught you would be hanged. The Union forces don’t hang prisoners. They would only have shut you up, and that is what you deserve.”

“But, Jennie, I was in disguise; they would have hanged me as a spy.”

“Don’t believe it, but I sometimes think half of you Rebels ought to be hanged.”

“Oh, Jennie, Jennie! what a bloodthirsty creature you have grown! But where is your father?”

“Thank the Lord, where the old flag yet floats – in Louisville. He will stay there until that rag comes down,” and she pointed to the Confederate flag floating over the courthouse.

“Poor girl, never to see her father again,” exclaimed Calhoun, in tones of compassion.

“What do you mean?” she asked, turning pale. A sudden fear had come over her; had anything befallen her father?

Calhoun saw her mistake. Laughing, he said, “I only meant that flag would never come down.”

“Is that all?” she replied, saucily; “you all will be scurrying south like so many rabbits in less than a week.”

“Give us ten days.”

“No, not an hour more than a week. And mind, if you get caught, you needn’t call on me for help.”

“Well, Jennie, don’t let’s quarrel. Perhaps I can return the favor you did me, by helping you some day.”

The opportunity came sooner than he expected. The next day Jennie ventured out to visit a sick friend. On her return she had to pass a couple of Confederate officers, one of whom was intoxicated. The other appeared to be reasoning with him, and trying to get him to go to his quarters.

As Jennie was hurrying past them, the one who was intoxicated staggered toward her, and leering at her, exclaimed, “How – how do, pretty one? Give me a – a kiss!”

Jennie turned to flee, but he caught her roughly by the arm. Just as he did so, he was struck a terrific blow in the face, which sent him rolling in the gutter.

“Take my arm, Jennie,” said Calhoun, for it was he who struck the blow, “I will see you safe home.”

The trembling girl took his arm, saying: “Oh, Calhoun, how glad I am you came! How can I thank you enough! Do you know that dreadful man?”

“Yes, I am sorry to say he is a captain in Morgan’s command. His name is Conway. We left him back in Tennessee wounded. But he was able to follow Bragg’s army, and he joined us only yesterday. By the way, it was Fred Shackelford who shot him. He shot him when he got Prince back. Conway was riding Blenheim.”

“Oh, Fred told me all about that. Wasn’t that just splendid in him, getting his horse back!”

“Where is Fred now?” asked Calhoun.

“I don’t know. Did you know General Nelson was shot?”

“Shot? Nelson shot?” cried Calhoun. “Where? How?”

Jennie had to tell him what little she knew about it. All that she had heard had come from Confederate sources.

“Well, Jennie, here you are at home. I feel ashamed. It is the first time I ever knew one of Morgan’s men to insult a woman.”

“I hope that miserable Conway will give you no trouble,” said Jennie, as they parted.

“No fears on that score,” lightly replied Calhoun, as he bade her good-bye.

But Calhoun well knew there would be trouble. No Kentucky officer would forgive a blow, no matter what the provocation was under which it was given.

The blow which Conway received had the effect of sobering him, but he presented a pitiable sight. His face was covered with blood, and one eye was nearly closed. When he knew it was Calhoun that had struck him, his rage was fearful. Nothing but blood would wipe out the insult. For a Kentucky gentleman not to resent a blow meant disgrace and dishonor; he would be looked upon as a contemptible coward. But Conway was no coward. He knew he was in fault, but that would not wipe out the disgrace of the blow. There was but one thing for him to do, and that was to challenge Calhoun.