General Nelson's Scout

How was it at Louisville during this time? General Thomas had warned General Anderson, who had moved his headquarters to that city, that General Buckner was contemplating an advance. But it was thought that he would come with waving banners and with the tramp of a great army, and that there would be plenty of time to prepare for him. Little did they think he would try to storm the city with a train of cars, and be in their midst before they knew it. When the train was delayed and telegraphic communications severed, it was thought that some accident had happened. There was not the slightest idea of the true state of affairs. As hours passed and nothing was heard of the delayed train, a train of discovery was sent south to find out what was the matter. This train ran into Buckner's advance at Elizabethtown, and was seized.

Not hearing anything from this train, an engine was sent after it. Still there was no idea of what had happened, no preparations to save Louisville. This engine ran into Buckner's advance at Muldraugh Hill. The fireman was a loyal man and at once grasped the situation. He leaped from his engine and ran back. What could this one man do, miles from Louisville, and on foot! He proved a hero. Meeting some section hands with a handcar, he shouted: "Back! back! the road above is swarming with rebels."

The car was turned and started for Louisville.

How those men worked! Great streams of perspiration ran down their bodies; their breath came in gasps, and still the fireman shouted: "Work her lively, boys, for God's sake, work her lively!"

At last Louisville was reached, and for the first time the facts known. At once all was excitement. There was hardly a soldier in the city. Once more the devoted Home Guards, the men who saved the city from riot and bloodshed on July 22d, sprang to arms. General Rousseau was ordered from across the river. He had but 1,200 men. These, with the Home Guards, made a force of nearly 3,000 men. These men were hurried on board the cars, and sent forward under the command of General W. T. Sherman. Through the darkness of the night this train felt its way. On reaching Rolling Fork of Salt River the bridge was found to be burnt. Despairing of reaching Louisville, General Buckner had destroyed the bridge to delay the advance of the Federal troops. The danger was over. Louisville was once more saved. But how many American boys and girls know the name of the daring young man who tore up the track, or the brave fireman who brought back the news?1

But how was it with Fred; had he escaped unhurt from that volley?

The stumble of his horse was caused by stepping into a hole, yet slight as the incident was, it saved Fred's life, for it threw him slightly forward, and at the same moment a ball tore through the crown of his hat. Another ball struck the crupper of his saddle, and another one bored a hole through Prince's right ear.

As soon as he was out of sight Fred stopped, and, ascertaining that no damage had been done, excepting the perforating of Prince's ear and his hat, he patted his horse's neck and said: "Ah, Prince, old boy, you are marked now for life, but it is all right. I shall always know you by that little hole through your ear."

Fred stopped that night at a planter's house, who at first viewed him with some suspicion; but when he was told of Buckner's advance, he was so overjoyed, being an ardent Secessionist, that there was nothing good enough for his guest.

The next day, when Fred rode into Lebanon, the first man that he saw was Mathews, who sauntered up to him, and said in a sarcastic tone: "It seems, young man, that you made a short visit to your poor sick grandfather. How did you find the old gentleman?"

Fred shrugged his shoulders. "I changed my mind," he replied. "I didn't see the old gentleman; I concluded to come back. Things are getting a little too brisk up there for me. Buckner has advanced, and there may be some skirmishing around Elizabethtown."

"And so you run," exclaimed Mathews in a tone which made Fred's blood boil. All of this time Mathews had been carefully looking over the boy and horse, and quite a crowd had collected around them.

"Ah!" continued Mathews; "a round hole through your horse's ear, been bleeding, too; your saddle torn by a bullet, and a hole through your hat. Boy, you had better give an account of yourself."

"Not at your command," replied Fred, hotly. "And I deny your right to question me."

"You do, do you, my fine young fellow? I will show you," and he made a grab for Prince's bridle.

A sharp, quick word from Fred, and the horse sprang, overthrowing Mathews, and scattering the crowd right and left. Mathews arose, shaking the dust from his clothes and swearing like a trooper.

A fine-looking man had just ridden up to the crowd as the incident occurred. He looked after the flying boy, and nervously fingered the revolver in his holster. Then a smile came over his face, and he spoke to Mathews, who was still swearing and loudly calling for a horse to pursue Fred.

"No use, Jim; you might as well chase a streak of lightning. That is the fastest horse in Kentucky."

Mathews looked at the man a moment in surprise, and then exclaimed: "Heavens! Morgan, is that you? How came you here?"

"Made a run for it night before last," replied Morgan with a laugh, "to keep from being nabbed by old Thomas. But what was the fuss between you and that boy? I wonder what he was doing out here any way? But, Mathews, he did upset you nicely; I think you rolled over at least six times."

"I will be even with him yet," growled Mathews.

"Oh! I have heard half a dozen men say that, myself included. But let's hear what the rumpus was about."

When Morgan heard the story, he said: "So Buckner is at Elizabethtown, is he? Well, that changes my plan. I was going to Bowling Green, but now I will change my course to Elizabethtown. But I would like to know what that boy has been doing. From what you say he must have been in a skirmish. Trying to throw a train off the track, perhaps; it would be just like him."

"But, Mathews," he continued, "the boy is gone, so let us talk business. I am going to raise a regiment of cavalry for the Confederate service, and I want you to raise a company."

"That I will, John," said Mathews. "There is no other man I had rather ride under."

Fred laughed heartily as he looked back and saw Mathews shaking the dust from himself. Finding that he was not pursued he brought Prince down to a walk. "I could almost swear," he said to himself, "that I caught a glimpse of Morgan as I dashed through the crowd. Thomas surely ought to have him before this time. I wonder what it means."

As he was riding through Danville he met his uncle, Judge Pennington, who, to his surprise, greeted him most cordially, and would insist on his stopping a while.

"Where have you been, Fred?" asked the judge.

"Over towards Elizabethtown to see my sick grandfather," replied Fred, gravely.

"Fred, what do you mean?" asked his uncle, somewhat nettled.

"Well, uncle, I have been over towards Elizabethtown ostensibly to see my grandfather, but really to see what I could find over there."

"And what did you find?"

"I found Buckner's men as thick as hops, and I found a warm reception besides. Look here," and he showed his uncle the hole through his hat. "If you will go out and look at Prince, you will find a hole through his ear, and you will also find the saddle torn with a bullet. Oh, yes, Buckner's men were glad to see me; they gave me a warm reception."

Judge Pennington looked grave. "Fred, are you telling the truth?"

"Yes, uncle."

"What did they fire on you for?"

"Oh, I side-tracked one of their trains."

The judge looked still graver. "Fred," said he, "you are engaging in dangerous business. Take care, or you will hang yet. I have heard of some of your doings. I had a visitor last night."

"What! not father, surely!"

"No, John H. Morgan."

"Then it was he I saw at Lebanon. I could hardly believe it."

"Why not, Fred?"

"Because – because – I thought – I thought he was in Lexington."

"It was because," answered the judge, severely, "that you thought he was a prisoner at Camp Dick Robinson. Ah, Fred, you were not as sharp as you thought. You foiled their plans; but, thank God! they have all escaped. One good has been accomplished. All pretense of neutrality is now at an end. These men will now be found in the ranks, fighting for the liberty of the South. As for Morgan, he will be heard from, mark my word."

"I rather like Morgan," said Fred. "He is a daring fellow, and sharp, too; yes, I believe he will be heard from."

"Fred, Morgan thinks you have had more to do with finding out their plans than any other one person."

"Morgan does me too much honor," replied Fred, quietly.

The judge remained quiet for a moment, and then said: "My boy, I wish you could have seen Morgan before you had so thoroughly committed yourself to the other side. He has taken a great fancy to you. He believes if he could talk with you, you might be induced to change your mind. He says in the kind of work in which he expects to engage, you would be worth a brigade of men. Fred, will you, will you not think of this? You are breaking our hearts with your course now."

"Dear uncle," replied Fred, "I thank Morgan for his good opinion, and I reciprocate his opinion; for of all the men I have met, I believe he, most of all, has the elements of a dashing, successful leader. But as for his offer, I cannot consider it for a moment."

The judge sighed, and Fred saw that his further presence was not desirable, so he made his adieus, and rode away.

"So Mr. Morgan wants to win me over," thought Fred, "and that was the reason uncle was so nice. I think this last scrape has burnt the bridges between us, and they will trouble me no more."

Fred made his report to General Thomas, who heard it with evident satisfaction.

"This, then, was your idea, Fred?"

"Yes, General, I in some way conceived the notion that Buckner would try to surprise Louisville just as he did try to do. I knew that trains were running regularly between Nashville and Louisville, and thought that a surprise could be effected. But the idea was so vague I was ashamed to tell you, for fear of exciting ridicule. So, I got my leave of absence and stole off, and if nothing had come of it, no one would have been the wiser."

General Thomas smiled, and said: "It was an idea worthy of a great general, Fred. General Anderson has much to thank you for, as well as the people of Louisville. But you must take a good rest now, both you and your horse. From appearances, I think it will not be many days before General Zollicoffer will give us plenty to do."

CHAPTER IX.

A LEAP FOR LIFE

On October 7th General Anderson, at his own request, was relieved of the command of the Department of Kentucky, on account of continued ill-health. The next day General W. T. Sherman, a man destined to fill an important place in the history of the war, was appointed to the position. Both the Federal and the Confederate governments had now thrown aside all pretense of neutrality. Kentucky echoed to the martial tread of armed men.

At Maysville under General Nelson, at Camp Dick Robinson under General Thomas, at Louisville under General Sherman, and at Paducah under General Grant, the Federal government was gathering its hosts; while the Confederate government with its troops occupied Columbus, Bowling Green, Cumberland Gap, and the mountains of eastern Kentucky. General Albert Sydney Johnston, one of the ablest of the Confederate generals, was in supreme command, with headquarters at Bowling Green.

General Zollicoffer marched from Cumberland Gap early in the month, and assumed offensive operations.

When General Sherman took command, Fred was sent by General Thomas to Louisville with dispatches. General Sherman had heard of some of the exploits of the young messenger, and he was received very kindly. Sherman, at that time, was in the prime of life. Straight as an arrow, of commanding presence, he was every inch a soldier. He was quick and impulsive in his actions, and to Fred seemed to be a bundle of nerves. In conversation he was open and frank and expressed his opinion freely, in this resembling General Nelson. But the rough, overbearing nature of Nelson he entirely lacked. He was one of the most courteous of men.

He would have Fred tell of some of his exploits, and when he gave an account of his first journey to Louisville, and his adventure with Captain Conway, the general was greatly pleased. Fred's account of how he discovered the details of the plot at Lexington was received with astonishment, and he was highly complimented. But the climax came when he told of how he had thrown the train from the track, and thus brought Buckner's intended surprise to naught. The general jumped up, grasped Fred's hand, and exclaimed:

"That, young man, calls for a commission, if I can get you one, and I think I can."

"General," replied Fred, "I thank you very much, but I do not wish a commission. I am now comparatively free. It is true, I am hired privately by General Nelson, and if I understand rightly I am getting the pay of a lieutenant; but I am not bound by oath to serve any length of time, neither could I have accomplished what I have if I had been a regular enlisted soldier."

"You are right," said the general. "But remember, if you are ever in need of any favor, do not hesitate to call on me."

This Fred readily promised, and left the general, highly elated over the interview.

Before leaving Louisville, Fred did not forget to call on the Vaughns. He found Miss Mabel well, and he thought her more beautiful than ever. A sad, pensive look on her face but added to her loveliness. Only the day before she had bidden her betrothed farewell, and he had marched to the front to help fight the battles of his country. As she hung weeping around his neck, he pointed to a little miniature flag pinned on his breast – it was the same flag that Mabel wore on that day she was beset by the mob – and said:

"Dearest, it shall be worn there as long as my heart beats. Never shall it be touched by a traitorous hand as long as I live. Every time I look upon it, it will be an incentive to prove worthy of the brave girl who wore it on her breast in the face of a brutal mob."

Then with one fond clasp of the hands, one long lingering kiss, he was gone; and to Mabel all the light and joy of the world seemed to go with him.

But the coming of Fred brought new thoughts, and for the time her eyes grew brighter, her cheeks rosier and laugh happier. The bright, brave boy who saved her from the mob was very welcome, and to her he was only a boy, a precious, darling boy.

They made Fred relate his adventures, and one minute Mabel's eyes would sparkle with fun, and the next melt in tenderness. In spite of himself, Fred's heart beat very fast, he hardly knew why. But when he told with trembling voice how he had parted from his father, and how he had been disowned and driven from home, the sympathy of the impulsive girl overcame her, and with eyes swimming in tears, she arose, threw her arms around him, imprinted a kiss on his forehead, and murmured: "Poor boy! poor boy!" Then turning to her mother, she said, "We will adopt him, won't we, mother, and I will have a brother."

Then remembering what she had done, she retired blushing and in confusion to her seat. That kiss finished Fred; it thrilled him through and through. Yet somehow the thought of being a brother to Mabel didn't give him any satisfaction. He knew Mabel looked upon him as only a boy, and the thought made him angry, but the next moment he was ashamed of himself. He took his leave, promising to call the next time he was in the city, and went away with conflicting emotions.

Fred was really suffering from an attack of first love, and didn't know it. It was better for him that he didn't, for it was the sooner forgotten.

On his return to Camp Dick Robinson Fred found that General Thomas had advanced some of his troops toward Cumberland Gap. Colonel Garrard was occupying an exposed position on the Rock Castle Hills, and Fred was sent to him with dispatches. Fred found the little command in considerable doubt over the movements of General Zollicoffer. One hour the rumor would be that he was advancing, and the next hour would bring the story that he was surely retreating. Colonel Garrard feared that he would be attacked with a greatly superior force.

Fred resolved that he would do a little scouting on his own account. Colonel Garrard offered to send a small party with him, but Fred declined the offer, saying that a squad would only attract attention, and if he ran into danger he would trust to the fleetness of his horse to save him.

Riding east, he made a wide detour, and at last came to where he thought he must be near the enemy's lines. In his front was a fine plantation; near by, in the woods, some negroes were chopping. These negroes he resolved to interview. His appearance created great consternation, and some of them dropped their axes, and looked as if about to run.

"Don't be afraid, boys," said Fred, kindly. "I only want to know who lives in yonder house."

"Massa Johnson, sah."

"Is he at home?"

"Not now, sah; he down to Zollicoffer camp."

"Oh, then General Zollicoffer is camped near here?"

"Yes, sah; 'bout two mile down de road."

"Do any of the soldiers ever come this way?" queried Fred.

"Yes, sah; 'bout twenty went up de road not mo' than two hours ago. Den a capin man, he cum to see Missy Alice most ebber day."

"Thank you," said Fred, as he rode away. "I think I will pay a visit to Missy Alice myself."

Riding boldly up to the house, he dismounted. Before entering the house he accosted an old negro who was working in the yard, and slipping a dollar into his hand, said:

"Uncle, if you see any one coming either way, will you cry, 'Massa, your horse is getting away?'"

"Trus' me fo' dat," said the old man, grinning from ear to ear. "I jess make dat hoss jump, and den I yell, 'Massa, hoss gittin' way.'"

"That's it, uncle, you are all right," and Fred turned and went into the house, where he introduced himself as a Mr. Sandford, from Lexington. He had friends in Zollicoffer's army, and had run the gauntlet of the Federal lines to visit them. Could they tell him how far it was to General Zollicoffer's camp.

The ladies received him coldly, but told him the distance. But Fred was not to be repulsed. He was a good talker, and he tried his best. He told them the news of the outside world, and what the Yankees were doing, and how they would soon be driven from the State. This at once endeared him to the ladies, especially the younger, who was a most pronounced little rebel. Miss Alice was a comely girl, somewhere between twenty and twenty-five years of age, and by a little but well directed flattery Fred completely won her confidence. She inquired after some acquaintances in Lexington, and by a happy coincidence Fred knew them, and the conversation became animated.

At length Fred remarked: "I hope it will not be long before General Zollicoffer will advance. We are getting anxious up at Lexington; we want to see the Yankees driven into the Ohio."

"You will not have to wait long," replied the girl. "Captain Conway tells me they are about ready, and will advance on the 20th or 21st – " she stopped suddenly, bit her lip, and looked scared.

In all probability she had told something that Captain Conway had told her to keep secret. Fred did not appear to notice her confusion, and at once said: "Conway, Conway, Captain Conway. Is it Captain P. C. Conway of whom you speak?"

"Yes, sir," replied the girl, brightening up.

"Why, I know him, know him like a book; in fact, we are old friends – special friends, I may say. He would rejoice to find me here," and then he added mentally, "and cut my throat."

"A brilliant soldier, and a brave one, is Captain Conway," continued Fred, "and if he is given an opportunity to distinguish himself, it will not be long before it will be Major or Colonel Conway."

This praise pleased Miss Alice greatly, and she informed Fred that he would soon have the pleasure of meeting his friend; that she expected him every moment.

Fred moved somewhat uneasily in his chair. He had no desire to meet Captain Conway, and he was about to make an excuse of going out to see how his horse was standing, when they were startled by the old negro running toward the house and yelling at the top of his voice: "Massa, massa, yo' hoss is gittin' away."

The sly old fellow had thrown a stone at Prince, and the horse was rearing and plunging.

Fred dashed out of the house; a party of horsemen was coming up the road, in fact, was nearly to the house. It was but the work of a moment for Fred to unhitch his horse and vault into the saddle, but the party was now not more than fifty yards away. At the head rode Captain Conway. They had noticed the horse hitched at the gate, and were coming at full speed to try and surprise the owner. The moment Conway saw Fred he knew him.

"Gods!" he cried, "Fred Shackelford, what luck!" and snatched a pistol from the holster and fired. The ball whistled past Fred's head harmlessly, and he turned in the saddle and returned the fire. It was the first time he had ever shot at a man, and even in the heat of excitement he experienced a queer sensation, a sinking of the heart, as though he were committing a crime.

Fairly and squarely the ball from his revolver struck the horse of Captain Conway in the forehead, and the animal fell dead, the rider rolling in the dust.

Immediately all was excitement. His men stopped the pursuit, and, dismounting, gathered around the captain, thinking he was killed.

But he sprang to his feet, shouting: "A hundred dollars to the one who will take that young devil, dead or alive. Here, Corporal Smith, you have a fleet horse, let me take him," and jumping into the saddle, he was in pursuit, followed by all his men, except Corporal Smith, who stood in the road looking after them.

"What does it mean? What does it mean?" asked the two ladies, who stood on the veranda, wringing their hands, and very much excited.

"Blamed if I know," answered the corporal. "The sight of that young chap seemed to make the captain kinder crazy. The moment he caught sight of him, he called him by name, and banged away at him."

"You say the captain called him by name?"

"Yes."

"Well, he said he knew the captain, and that he was one of his best friends. I can't understand it."

The corporal had no explanation to offer, so went and took a look at the captain's horse. "Bang up shot," he remarked. "Right between the eyes."

In the meantime the pursued and the pursuers had passed out of sight up the road, enveloped in a cloud of dust.

"Remember, boys," shouted Conway, "a hundred dollars to the one who brings him down. Don't attempt to take him alive. Shoot him! shoot him!"

But it was nothing but play for Fred to distance them, and he laughed to think that they expected to catch him. But the laugh suddenly died on his lips; he turned pale, and glanced hurriedly to the right and left. A high rail fence ran on each side of the road. The scouting party of which the negroes spoke was returning. Fred was between the two parties.

Captain Conway saw the other party, and shouted in triumph.

"Now, boys, we have him," and he spurred his horse forward, revolver in hand. There was a look of malignant hatred on his face, and he muttered: "Now, my boy, I will settle scores with you. I shall never take you back to camp. 'Captured a spy, killed while trying to escape.' Ha! ha! how will that sound!"

As for Fred, even in his extremity, his courage or his presence of mind never deserted him. He felt that to be captured by Conway was death, for had not the captain sworn to kill him on sight? His mind was made up; he would wheel and charge the captain's party. He would at least die fighting. Just as he was about to do this, he espied an opening in the fence on the left. As quick as thought he dashed through it, thinking it might afford a chance of escape. Too late he saw his mistake. The field was a perfect cul-de-sac, bounded on all sides by a high rail fence, the only opening the one he had come through.

Through this opening the enemy poured, and when they saw the trap which Fred had entered, their shouts made the welkin ring. They were sure of their prey. Their shouts rang in Fred's ears like the tolling of a funeral bell. So must the bay of hounds sound in the ears of the hunted quarry.