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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 André of Revolutionary fame, was willing to risk his life for the cause he loved. André 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.”