General Nelson's Scout

"You are right, father," said Fred, in a low voice.

"This being the case," continued Mr. Shackelford, "I was going to offer to take you with me in the army, not as an enlisted soldier, but rather as company and aid to me. But from what I heard last night, I do not see how this is possible, unless what you have done has been a mere boyish freak, which I do not think."

"It was no freak," said Fred, with an unsteady voice.

"So I thought. Therefore, the only thing I can do is to send you away – to Europe. What do you say, an English or a German university?"

"And you are really going into the Confederate army, father?"

"Yes, my son."

"And you want me to play the coward and flee my country in this her hour of greatest peril? Oh, father!"

Mr. Shackelford looked astonished, and then a smile of joy passed over his features; could it be that Fred was going with him?

"Not if you wish to go with me, my son."

Fred arose and tottered to his father, sank beside his knee, and looking up with a tear-stained face, said in a pleading voice:

"Don't go into the Confederate army, father; don't turn against the old flag." And the boy laid his head on his father's knee and sobbed as if his heart would break.

Mr. Shackelford was deeply moved. He tried to speak, but a lump arose in his throat and choked him; so he sat in silence smoothing the hair of his son with his hand as gently as his mother would have done.

"What would mother say," at length sobbed the boy.

Mr. Shackelford shivered as with a chill; then said brokenly: "If your mother had lived, child, my first duty would have been to her. Now it is to my country. Neither would your mother, it mattered not what she thought herself, ever have asked me to violate my own conscience."

"Father, let us both stay at home. We can do that, you thinking as you do, and I thinking as I do. We can love each other just the same. We can do good by comforting those who will be stricken; and mother will look down from heaven, and bless us. We cannot control our sympathies, but we can our actions. We can both be truly non-combatants."

"Don't, Fred, don't tempt me," gasped Mr. Shackelford. "My word is given, and a Shackelford never breaks his word. Then I cannot stand idly by, and see my kindred made slaves. I must draw my sword for the right, and the South has the right. Fred, the die is cast. I go in the Confederate army – you to Europe. So say no more."

Fred arose, his face as pale as death, but with a look so determined, so fixed that it seemed as if in a moment the boy had been transformed into a man.

"Father," he asked, "I have always been a good son, obeying you, and never intentionally grieving you, have I not?"

"You have, Fred, been a good, obedient son, God bless you!"

"Just before mother died," continued Fred, "she called me to her bedside. She told me how my great-grandfather had died on Bunker Hill, and asked me to always be true to my country. She asked me to promise never to raise my hand against the flag. I gave her the promise. You would not have me break that promise, father?"

"No, no, my son! Go to Europe, stay there until the trouble is over."

"She said more, father. Listen, for I believe her words to be prophetic: 'God will never prosper a nation whose chief corner-stone is human slavery.'"

"Stop, Fred, stop, I can't bear it. Your mother did not understand. This war is not waged to perpetuate slavery; it is waged to preserve the rights of the States guaranteed to them by the Constitution."

"Do not deceive yourself, father; slavery has everything to do with it. No State would have thought of seceding if it had not been for slavery. Slavery is the sole, the only cause of the war. It is a poor cause for noble men to give up their lives."

"We will not argue the question," said Mr. Shackelford, pettishly; "you will forget your foolishness in Europe."

"I shall not go to Europe."

"What!"

"I shall not go to Europe."

"Do you dare to disobey me?"

"I shall not only not go to Europe, but I shall enter the army."

"The army! the army! What army?" asked Mr. Shackelford, dismayed.

"The Union army."

The father staggered as if a knife had pierced his heart. He threw out his hands wildly, and then pressed them to his breast and gasped: "Fred, Fred, you don't mean it!"

"I was never more in earnest in my life."

Mr. Shackelford's feelings underwent a sudden change. His face became purple with rage; love for his son was forgotten.

"Do that," he thundered, "do that, and you are no son of mine. I will disown you, I will cast you out, I will curse you."

"Father," said Fred, in a low tremulous voice, "if part we must, do not let us part in anger. Never have I loved you better than now; you do what you believe to be right; I do what I believe to be right. We both perform our duty as we see it. God will hold the one who blunders blameless. Let us then part in peace."

Mr. Shackelford, with white, drawn face, pointed to the door, and uttered the one word, "Go!"

"Oh, father, father, do not send me away with a curse. See, father," and he turned to his mother's portrait which hung on the wall, "mother is looking down on us; mother, who loved us both so well. How can you account to her that you have turned away her only son with a curse, and for no crime, but the one of loving his country."

"Boy, boy, have you no mercy that you will not only break my heart, but tear it out by the roots."

"I am the one who asks for mercy, who pleads that you send me not away with a curse."

"Fred, for the sake of your mother, I will not curse you, but I will, if you remain in my sight. Here," and he went to his safe, opened it, and took out a package of money. "Here is $1,000, take it and Prince, and begone. Go to that man, Nelson, who has seduced you. It is a heavy account I have to settle with him. Go before I forget myself and curse you."

For a moment Fred gazed in his father's face; there was no wrath, nothing but love in his look. Then he took the money and said: "Father, I thank you; I not only thank you, but bless you. May God protect you in the midst of dangers. Not a day shall pass but I shall pray for your safety. Good-bye, father."

He turned and went out.

Mr. Shackelford staggered towards the door. "Fred!" It was the cry of a repentant soul. The boy's footstep echoed outside along the hall, fainter and fainter.

The father groped blindly, as if about to fall.

"Fred, Fred, come back!"

The outer door closed; his boy was gone.

Mr. Shackelford staggered backward and groaned, as if in mortal agony. Then his eye caught the portrait of his wife looking down on him. Raising his arms beseechingly, he cried: "Oh, Laura! Laura! What have I done? Don't look at me so; I didn't curse him. I would have called him back. My boy! my boy! Oh, God! Oh, God!"

It was with a heavy heart that Fred left the house. As he shut the door, he thought he heard his father call. He stopped and listened, but hearing nothing, he went on. Getting his horse, he rode to Danville. His little sister was visiting at Judge Pennington's, and he wanted to see her, as well as to bid farewell to his uncle, and see Calhoun. He had no idea but that his uncle would forbid him the house when he heard of his being cast off by his father.

He found Judge Pennington at home, and frankly told him what had happened, shielding his father as much as possible, and not sparing himself.

The judge went into a fearful passion.

"Why, why, you young jackanapes," he roared; "it's a horse-whipping you want, and you would get it if you were a boy of mine! Disowned you, did he? And drove you away? Well, he is a fool, too. A good tanning is what you need, and, by Jove! I have a mind to give it to you," and he shook his cane threateningly. "Going to join the Yankee army, are you? Join and be hanged, you idiot! A Shackelford in the Yankee army! I'll, I'll – " but the judge was too angry to say more.

"Now, uncle, don't get in a rage; it's no use. My mind is fully made up. I shall join the Union army in some capacity."

"Get out of my sight, you young idiot, you!" thundered the judge.

Just then Calhoun came in. "What's the row?" he asked, looking from one to the other.

"Row, row!" sputtered the judge. "If you were as big a fool as your cousin there, I would skin you alive."

"Glad you have at last come to a full appreciation of my worth," coolly replied Calhoun. "For years I have had the virtues of my cousin held up to me as a shining mark to follow. Now, I find I am saving my skin by surpassing him in the wisdom of this world. Congratulate me, dear father."

"Why, this fool says he is going to enlist in the Yankee army," foamed the Judge, pointing at Fred.

"And this fool says he is going to enlist in the Southern army," answered Calhoun, pointing to himself.

The judge was sobered instantly. "Calhoun, you don't mean it?" he asked.

"Yes, I do mean it," stoutly replied the boy. "Why not? Haven't you been talking for years of the rights of the South? Are you not doing everything possible to take Kentucky out of the Union? Haven't you encouraged the enlistment of soldiers for the South? Then why not I? Why am I better than others? Father, I don't want to quarrel with you as Fred has with his father, but I am going into the Southern army, and I hope with your blessing."

The judge was completely sobered. Having his son go to war was so much different from having some one else's son go.

"Do not do anything rash, my son," he said to Calhoun. "When the time comes if you must go, I will see what can be done for you. As for you, Fred," he said, "you stay here with Calhoun until I return. I am going to see your father," and calling for his horse, the judge rode away.

It was afternoon before the judge came back. Calling the boys into a room for a private interview, he said: "Fred, I have been to see your father, and he is very much chagrined over your disobedience. His fierce anger is gone, and in its place a deep sorrow. He does not ask you to give up your principle, but he does ask that you do not enter the Federal army. You are much too young, to say nothing of other considerations. You should accept his proposition and go to Europe. We have come to this conclusion, that if you will go I will send Calhoun with you. That will be an even stand off. Calhoun wants to enter the Southern army, you the Northern, so neither section loses anything. You have both done your duty to your section, and both will have the pleasure and advantage of a university course in Europe. What do you say, boys?"

"That it is a mean underhanded way to prevent me from entering the army," flared up Calhoun. "I hope Fred will not accept."

"Be careful, boy," said the judge, getting red in the face. "You will not find me as lenient as Mr. Shackelford has been with Fred. You will go where I say."

Calhoun's temper was up, and there would have been a scene right then and there if Fred had not interfered.

"Uncle," said he, "there is no use of Calhoun and you disagreeing over this matter. I shall not go to Europe; so far as I am concerned, it is settled. As for Calhoun entering the army, you must settle that between you."

Calhoun pressed Fred's hand, and whispered, "Good for you, Fred; you have got me out of a bad scrape. I think father will consent to my going in the army now."

The judge stared at the boys, and then sputtered: "Both of you ought to be soundly thrashed. But if Fred's mind is made up, it is no use pursuing the matter further."

"I am firmly resolved," answered Fred.

"Then," answered the judge, "I will say no more, only, Fred, my house is open to you. When you get sick of your foolish experiment you can have a home here. Your father refuses to see you unless you consent to obey."

"I thank you, uncle," said Fred, in a low voice, "but I do not think I shall trouble you much."

In justice to Mr. Shackelford, it must be said it was by his request that Judge Pennington made this offer to Fred. Mr. Shackelford's heart had softened towards his son, and he did not wish to cast him off entirely. But the destiny of father and son was to be more closely interwoven than either thought.

Fred remained at his uncle's until the next day. He and Calhoun slept together or rather occupied the same bed, for they had too much talking to do to sleep. Both boys were romantic and fond of adventure. Both longed for the fierce excitement of war. They did not talk as enemies. They did not realize that they might face each other on the field of battle. They talked of their oath, and again promised to keep it to the letter.

They were like two brothers, each going on a long journey in different directions.

Their parting the next morning was most affectionate, and when Fred rode away he turned his horse's head in the direction of Camp Dick Robinson.

CHAPTER VI.

THE FIGHT FOR THE ARMS

The soldiers that Nelson had gathered at Camp Dick Robinson were a nondescript set, not only in clothing, but in arms. Squirrel rifles and shotguns were the principal weapons. When he first began organizing his troops, Nelson had ordered guns and ammunition from the Federal government, and his impetuous spirit chafed at their non-arrival. Consequently he was not in the best of humor, and was mentally cursing the government for its exceeding slowness when Fred rode up to his headquarters.

Fred's ride had been anything but a pleasant one. That he had taken a desperate step for a boy of his age, he well knew. He passionately loved his father, and the thought that he had been disowned for disobedience was a bitter one. He strove to fight back the lump that would rise in his throat; and in spite of all his efforts to keep them back, the tears would well up in his eyes. But he never faltered in his determination. He had given himself, heart and soul, to the cause of the Union, and had no thought of turning back. Even if Nelson did not receive him, if it came to the worst he would enlist as a private soldier. Serve the Union he would.

"A boy to see me," snapped Nelson, when an orderly reported that a boy was outside and wished to see him. "Tell him to go to the – ."

The orderly reported to Fred Nelson's kind wish.

"Tell him," replied Fred, rather indignantly, "that Fred Shackelford wishes to see him."

The orderly soon returned, and ushered Fred into the presence of the irate officer.

"It is you, Fred, is it?" said Nelson, as our hero entered and saluted him. "I am sorry I told you to go where I did, but the truth is I am out of sorts. Have you any news to cheer me up?"

"News, General, yes; and quite important, if you do not already know it. But first," continued Fred, glancing at the star which glistened on Nelson's shoulder, "let me congratulate you. I see you are no longer Lieutenant Nelson of the navy, but General Nelson of the army."

"Yes," replied Nelson, with a twinkle in his eye, "I now command on land; so, young man, be careful how you try to ride over me."

Fred laughed as he thought of his first meeting with Nelson, and replied: "I shall never so forget myself again, General."

"Now," continued Nelson, "give me the news. You said you had something important to communicate."

"So I have if you are not already informed. You are expecting arms for your men, are you not?"

"I am, and I am all out of patience because I do not receive them. They should have been here days ago. But what do you know about this?"

"I know that you will never receive them, if the friends of the South can prevent it; and that they are taking active measures to do."

"Tell me all about it," said Nelson, manifesting the greatest interest.

Fred then related all that he had heard at the meeting which took place at his father's house. Nelson's face grew very grave. Then he asked, "Where did you learn of all this?"

"Please do not ask me," replied Fred, in a low voice. "I can only say the information is absolutely correct."

"Never mind," said Nelson, kindly. "I think I understand. Your news is, indeed, important. The enemy must have spies watching every movement. You have again rendered me important service, Fred. How I wish you could take up with that offer I made you."

"That is what I have come for, General, if you will accept my poor services."

"What! has your father consented?" asked Nelson, in surprise.

Fred colored, and then replied: "I have no home; my father has cast me out."

"For what?"

"I had my choice to accompany him in the Confederate army or to go to Europe to attend some university. I refused to do either."

Nelson knitted his brows a moment as if in thought, and then replied: "You were certainly right in refusing the first; I wonder at your father making you the proposition. The last was a very reasonable proposition, and a wise one. You should have accepted it. I am afraid I am to blame for your folly – for such it is. The offer I made you appealed to your boyish imagination and love of adventure, and caused you to go against the wishes of your father. Four or five years at some foreign university is a chance not to be idly thrown away, to say nothing about obeying the wishes of your father. As much as I would like your services, Fred, be reconciled to your father; go to Europe, and keep out of this infernal war. It will cost the lives of thousands of just such noble youths as you before it ends; and," he continued, with a tinge of sadness in his tone, "I sometimes think I shall never live to see it end. I am surrounded by hundreds of enemies who are hungering for my life."

"Your advice, General, is most kindly given," answered Fred, "and I sincerely thank you for what you have said; but it is impossible for me to accept it. It is all over between father and myself. He gave me $1,000 and my horse, and told me to go my way. I love my father, but if I should now go back after what has passed, he would despise me, as I would despise myself. Father is the soul of honor; if I should play the craven after all that I have said, he would not only despise, but loathe me. Now I can hope that time may once more unite us. Be assured that though his heart may be filled with anger towards me now, if I prove myself worthy, he will yet be proud of his son."

Nelson's heart was touched. He grasped Fred's hand, and exclaimed with much feeling: "You must have a noble father, or he could not have such a son. Yes, Fred, I will take you. Consider yourself attached to my staff as confidential scout and messenger. I do not wish you to enlist; you will be more free to act if you are not an enlisted soldier."

Fred warmly thanked the general for his expression of confidence, and announced himself as ready for orders.

Nelson smiled at his ardor, and then said: "I believe you stated that that meeting is to take place in Scott county the 17th?"

"Yes, sir."

"This is the 14th. You can make it all right. How would you like to go there, and see what you can learn?"

Fred's eyes kindled. "I can make it all right, but I am afraid some of them may know me."

"We will fix that all right," responded Nelson.

The next morning, a boy with jet black hair and hands and face stained brown rode away from General Nelson's headquarters. It would have been a close observer indeed that would have taken that boy for Fred Shackelford.

It was on the evening of the 16th that Fred reached Georgetown. He found the little city full of excited partisans of the South. At the meeting the next day many fierce speeches were made. The extremists were for at once calling out the State Guards, and marching on Camp Dick Robinson, and capturing it at the point of the bayonet. But more pacific advice prevailed. Governor Magoffin was instructed to protest in the strongest language to President Lincoln, and to call on him at once to disband the troops at Dick Robinson. As for allowing the arms to be shipped, it was resolved that it should be prevented at all hazards.

When Fred arrived at Georgetown, he found at the hotel that he could procure a room next to the one occupied by Major Hockoday, and believing that the major's room might be used for secret consultations of the more violent partisans of the South, he engaged it, hoping that in some manner he might become possessed of some of their secrets. While the room engaged by Major Hockoday was unoccupied he deftly made a hole through the plastering in his room, and then with the aid of a sharpened stick made a very small opening through the plastering into the next room. He then rolled up a sheet of paper in the shape of a trumpet. By placing the small end of the paper in the small opening, and putting his ear to the larger end, he was enabled to hear much that was said, especially if everything was still and the conversation was animated. The result exceeded his most sanguine expectations. After the close of the public meeting, a number of the more prominent actors gathered in Major Hockoday's room.

A heated discussion arose as to how Kentucky could the most quickly throw off her neutrality, and join her fortune to that of the Confederacy.

"Gentlemen," said Major Hockoday, "I believe every one present is a true son of the South, therefore I can speak to you freely. The first thing, as we all agree, is to prevent the shipment of these arms. Then if Lincoln refuses to disband the troops at Dick Robinson, the program is this: You all know that General Buckner has been in Washington for some time talking neutrality. In a measure he has gained the confidence of Lincoln, and has nearly received the promise that no Federal troops from other States will be ordered into the State as long as the Confederate troops keep out. Buckner has secretly gone to Richmond, where he will accept a commission from the Confederate government. He will then come back by way of the South, and issue a proclamation to loyal Kentuckians to join his standard. The State Guards should join him to a man. Then, if Lincoln refuses to disband the soldiers at Dick Robinson, the Confederate government will occupy the State with troops, claiming and justly, too, that the Federal government has not respected the neutrality of the State. The coming of the Confederate troops will fire the heart of every true Kentuckian, and all over the State Confederates will spring to arms, and the half-armed ragamuffins of Nelson will be scattered like a flock of sheep. By a dash Louisville can be occupied, and Kentucky will be where she belongs – in the Southern Confederacy. What think you, gentlemen, of the program?"

A wild cheer burst from those present. Strong men embraced each other with tears streaming down their cheeks. They believed with their whole hearts and souls that the South was right, and that Kentucky's place was with her Southern sisters, and now that there seemed to be a possibility of this, their enthusiasm knew no bounds.

As for Fred, he drew a long breath. He knew that he had gained information of the greatest value to the Federal cause.

"It is time for me to be going," he said to himself. "Nelson must know of this as soon as possible."

As he passed out of the room, he came face to face with Major Hockoday.

The major stared at him a moment, and then roughly asked: "What is your name, and what are you doing here?"

"I see no reason why I should report to you," replied Fred. "I am a guest at this hotel, and am minding my own business. I wish I could say as much for you," and he walked away.

The major looked after him, his face red with anger, and muttered: "Strange! but if that boy didn't have black hair and was not dark, I should swear it was Fred Shackelford. I must find out more about him."

But a gentleman came along just then and engaged him in conversation. As soon as he could disengage himself, the major examined the hotel register to find who occupied room 13. Opposite that number he found written in a bold, boyish hand:

"F. Carrington… Louisville."

Fred's full name was Fred Carrington Shackelford, and he had registered his given names only. Major Hockoday made careful inquiry about the boy, but no one knew him. He had paid his bill, called for his horse, and rode away. More the people could not tell. Major Hockoday was troubled, why he hardly knew; but somehow he felt as if the presence of that black-haired boy boded no good to their cause.

All of this time Fred was riding swiftly towards Lexington.