CHAPTER 24.
A RACE BETWEEN DIXIE AND DAWN
But the sun sank next day from a sky that was aflame with rebelvictories. It rose on a day rosy with rebel hopes, and the propheticcoolness of autumn was in the early morning air when Margaret in herphaeton moved through the front pasture on her way to town--alone. Shewas in high spirits and her head was lifted proudly. Dan's boast hadcome true. Kirby Smith had risen swiftly from Tennessee, had struck theFederal Army on the edge of the Bluegrass the day before and sent ithelter-skelter to the four winds. Only that morning she had seen aregiment of the hated Yankees move along the turnpike in flight for theOhio. It was the Fourth Ohio Cavalry, and Harry and one whose namenever passed her lips were among those dusty cavalrymen; but she wasglad, and she ran down o the stile and, from the fence, waved the Starsand Bars at them as they passed--which was very foolish, but whichbrought her deep content. Now the rebels did hold Lexington. Morgan'sMen were coming that day and she was going into town to see Dan andColonel Hunt and General Morgan and be fearlessly happy and triumphant.At the Major's gate, whom should she see coming out but the dear oldfellow himself, and, when he got off his horse and came to her, sheleaned forward and kissed him, because he looked so thin and pale fromconfinement, and because she was so glad to see him. Morgan's Men werereally coming, that very day, the Major said, and he told her muchthrilling news. Jackson had obliterated Pope at the second battle ofManassas. Eleven thousand prisoners had been taken at Harper's Ferryand Lee had gone on into Maryland on the flank of Washington. Recruitswere coming into the Confederacy by the thousands. Bragg had fifty-fivethousand men and an impregnable stronghold in front of Buell, who hadbut few men more--not enough to count a minute, the Major said.
"Lee has routed 'em out of Virginia," cried the old fellow, "and Buellis doomed. I tell you, little girl, the fight is almost won."
Jerome Conners rode to the gate and called to the Major in a tone thatarrested the girl's attention. She hated that man and she had noted aqueer change in his bearing since the war began. She looked for a flashof anger from the Major, but none came, and she began to wonder whathold the overseer could have on his old master.
She drove on, puzzled, wondering, and disturbed; but her cheeks wereflushed--the South was going to win, the Yankees were gone, and shemust get to town in time to see the triumphant coming of Morgan's Men.They were coming in when she reached the Yankee head-quarters, which,she saw, had changed flags--thank God--coming proudly in, amid thewaving of the Stars and Bars and frenzied shouts of welcome. Where werethe Bluegrass Yankees now? The Stars and Stripes that had flutteredfrom their windows had been drawn in and they were keeping very quiet,indeed--Oh! it was joy! There was gallant Morgan himself swinging fromBlack Bess to kiss his mother, who stood waiting for him at her gate,and there was Colonel Hunt, gay, debonair, jesting, shaking hands rightand left, and crowding the streets, Morgan's Men--the proudest blood inthe land, every gallant trooper getting his welcome from the lips andarms of mother, sister, sweetheart, or cousin of farthest degree. Butwhere was Dan? She had heard nothing of him since the night he hadescaped capture, and while she looked right and left for him to dashtoward her and swing from his horse, she heard her name called, andturning she saw Richard Hunt at the wheel of her phaeton. He waved hishand toward the happy reunions going on around them.
"The enforced brotherhood, Miss Margaret," he said, his eyes flashing,"I belong to that, you know."
For once the subtle Colonel made a mistake. Perhaps the girl in hertrembling happiness and under the excitement of the moment might havewelcomed him, as she was waiting to welcome Dan, but she drew back now.
"Oh! no, Colonel--not on that ground."
Her eyes danced, she flushed curiously, as she held out her hand, andthe Colonel's brave heart quickened. Straightway he began towonder--but a quick shadow in Margaret's face checked him.
"But where's Dan? Where is Dan?" she repeated, impatiently.
Richard Hunt looked puzzled. He had just joined his command andsomething must have gone wrong with Dan. So he lied swiftly.
"Dan is out on a scout. I don't think he has got back yet. I'll findout."
Margaret watched him ride to where Morgan stood with his mother in themidst of a joyous group of neighbors and friends, and, a moment later,the two officers came toward her on foot.
"Don't worry, Miss Margaret," said Morgan, with a smile. "The Yankeeshave got Dan and have taken him away as prisoner--but don't worry,we'll get him exchanged in a week. I'll give three brigadier-generalsfor him."
Tears came to the girl's eyes, but she smiled through them bravely.
"I must go back and tell mother," she said, brokenly. "I hoped--"
"Don't worry, little girl," said Morgan again. "I'll have him if I haveto capture the whole State of Ohio."
Again Margaret smiled, but her heart was heavy, and Richard Hunt wasunhappy. He hung around her phaeton all the while she was in town. Hewent home with her, cheering her on the way and telling her of theConfederate triumph that was at hand. He comforted Mrs. Dean over Dan'scapture, and he rode back to town slowly, with his hands on hissaddle-bow--wondering again. Perhaps Margaret had gotten over herfeeling for that mountain boy--that Yankee--and there Richard Huntchecked his own thoughts, for that mountain boy, he had discovered, wasa brave and chivalrous enemy, and to such, his own high chivalry gavesalute always.
He was very thoughtful when he reached camp. He had an unusual desireto be alone, and that night, he looked long at the stars, thinking ofthe girl whom he had known since her babyhood--knowing that he wouldnever think of her except as a woman again.
So the Confederates waited now in the Union hour of darkness for Braggto strike his blow. He did strike it, but it was at the heart of theSouth. He stunned the Confederacy by giving way before Buell. Hebrought hope back with the bloody battle of Perryville. Again he facedBuell at Harrodsburg, and then he wrought broadcast despair by fallingback without battle, dividing his forces and retreating into Tennessee.The dream of a battle-line along the Ohio with a hundred thousand moremen behind it was gone and the last and best chance to win the war waslost forever. Morgan, furious with disappointment, left Lexington.Kentucky fell under Federal control once more; and Major Buford, dazed,dismayed, unnerved, hopeless, brought the news out to the Deans.
"They'll get me again, I suppose, and I can't leave home on account ofLucy."
"Please do, Major," said Mrs. Dean. "Send Miss Lucy over here and makeyour escape. We will take care of her." The Major shook his head sadlyand rode away.
Next day Margaret sat on the stile and saw the Yankees coming back toLexington. On one side of her the Stars and Bars were fixed to thefence from which they had floated since the day she had waved the flagat them as they fled. She saw the advance guard come over the hill andjog down the slope and then the regiment slowly following after. In therear she could see two men, riding unarmed. Suddenly three cavalrymenspurred forward at a gallop and turned in at her gate. The soldier inadvance was an officer, and he pulled out a handkerchief, waved itonce, and, with a gesture to his companions, came on alone. She knewthe horse even before she recognized the rider, and her cheeks flushed,her lips were set, and her nostrils began to dilate. The horsemanreined in and took off his cap.
"I come under a flag of truce," he said, gravely, "to ask this garrisonto haul down its colors--and--to save useless effusion of blood," headded, still more gravely.
"Your war on women has begun, then?"
"I am obeying orders--no more, no less."
"I congratulate you on your luck or your good judgment always to be onhand when disagreeable duties are to be done."
Chad flushed.
"Won't you take the flag down?"
"No, make your attack. You will have one of your usual victories--withoverwhelming numbers--and it will be safe and bloodless. There are onlytwo negroes defending this garrison. They will not fight, nor will we."
"Won't you take the flag down?"
"No!"
>
Chad lifted his cap and wheeled. The Colonel was watching at the gate.
"Well, sir" he asked, frowning.
"I shall need help, sir, to take that flag down," said Chad.
"What do you mean, sir?"
"A woman is defending it."
"What!" shouted the Colonel.
"That is my sister, Colonel," said Harry Dean. The Colonel smiled andthen grew grave.
"You should warn her not to provoke the authorities. The Government isadvising very strict measures now with rebel sympathizers." Then hesmiled again.
"Fours! Left wheel! Halt! Present--sabres!"
A line of sabres flashed in the sun, and Margaret, not understanding,snatched the flag from the fence and waved it back in answer. TheColonel laughed aloud. The column moved on, and each captain,following, caught the humor of the situation and each company flashedits sabres as it went by, while Margaret stood motionless.
In the rear rode those two unarmed prisoners. She could see now thattheir uniforms were gray and she knew that they were prisoners, but shelittle dreamed that they were her brother Dan and Rebel Jerry Dillon,nor did Chad Buford or Harry Dean dream of the purpose for which, justat that time, they were being brought back to Lexington. Perhaps oneman who saw them did know: for Jerome Conners, from the woods opposite,watched the prisoners ride by with a malicious smile that nothing butimpending danger to an enemy could ever bring to his face; and with thesame smile he watched Margaret go slowly back to the house, while herflag still fluttered from the stile.
The high tide of Confederate hopes was fast receding now. The army ofthe Potomac, after Antietam, which overthrew the first Confederateaggressive campaign at the East, was retreating into its Southernstronghold, as was the army of the West after Bragg's abandonment ofMumfordsville, and the rebel retirement had given the provost-marshalsin Kentucky full sway. Two hundred Southern sympathizers, under arrest,had been sent into exile north of the Ohio, and large sums of moneywere levied for guerilla outrages here and there--a heavy sum fallingon Major Buford for a vicious murder done in his neighborhood by DawsDillon and his band on the night of the capture of Daniel Dean andRebel Jerry. The Major paid the levy with the first mortgage he hadever given in his life, and straightway Jerome Conners, who had beendealing in mules and other Government supplies, took an attitude thatwas little short of insolence toward his old master, whose farm waspassing into the overseer's clutches at last. Only two nights before,another band of guerillas had burned a farm-house, killed a Unionist,and fled to the hills before the incoming Yankees, and the KentuckyCommandant had sworn vengeance after the old Mosaic way on victimsalready within his power.
That night Chad and Harry were summoned before General Ward. They foundhim seated with his chin in his hand, looking out the window at themoonlit campus. Without moving, he held out a dirty piece of paper toChad.
"Read that," he said.
"YOU HAVE KETCHED TWO OF MY MEN AND I HEAR AS HOW YOU MEAN TO HANG 'EM.IF YOU HANG THEM TWO MEN, I'M A-GOIN' TO HANG EVERY MAN OF YOURS I CANGIT MY HANDS ON.
"DAWS DILLON--Captain."
Chad gave a low laugh and Harry smiled, but the General kept grave.
"You know, of course, that your brother belongs to Morgan's command?"
"I do, sir," said Harry, wonderingly.
"Do you know that his companion--the man Dillon--Jerry Dillon--does?"
"I do not, sir."
"They were captured by a squad that was fighting Daws Dillon. ThisJerry Dillon has the same name and you found the two together atGeneral Dean's."
"But they had both just left General Morgan's command," said Harry,indignantly.
"That may be true, but this Daws Dillon has sent a similar message tothe Commandant, and he has just been in here again and committed twowanton outrages night before last. The Commandant is enraged and hasissued orders for stern retaliation."
"It's a trick of Daws Dillon," said Chad, hotly, "an infamous trick. Hehates his Cousin Jerry, he hates me, and he hates the Deans, becausethey were friends of mine." General Ward looked troubled.
"The Commandant says he has been positively informed that both the menjoined Daws Dillon in the fight that night. He has issued orders thatnot only every guerilla captured shall be hung, but that, whenever aUnion citizen has been killed by one of them, four of such maraudersare to be taken to the spot and shot in retaliation. It is the onlymeans left, he says."
There was a long silence. The faces of both the lads had turned whiteas each saw the drift of the General's meaning, and Harry strodeforward to his desk.
"Do you mean to say, General Ward--"
The General wheeled in his chair and pointed silently to an order thatlay on the desk, and as Harry started to read it, his voice broke.Daniel Dean and Rebel Jerry were to be shot next morning at sunrise.
. . . . .
The General spoke very kindly to Harry.
"I have known this all day, but I did not wish to tell you until I haddone everything I could. I did not think it would be necessary to tellyou at all, for I thought there would be no trouble. I telegraphed theCommandant, but"--he turned again to the window--"I have not been ableto get them a trial by court-martial, or even a stay in the execution.You'd better go see your brother--he knows now--and you'd better sendword to your mother and sister."
Harry shook his head. His face was so drawn and ghastly as he stoodleaning heavily against the table that Chad moved unconsciously to hisside.
"Where is the Commandant?" he asked.
"In Frankfort," said the General. Chad's eyes kindled.
"Will you let me go see him to-night?"
"Certainly, and I will give you a message to him. Perhaps you can yetsave the boy, but there is no chance for the man Dillon." The Generaltook up a pen. Harry seemed to sway as he turned to go, and Chad putone arm around him and went with him to the door.
"There have been some surprising desertions from the Confederateranks," said the General, as he wrote. "That's the trouble." he lookedat his watch as he handed the message over his shoulder to Chad. "Youhave ten hours before sunrise and it is nearly sixty miles there andback If you are not here with a stay of execution both will be shot. Doyou think that you can make it? Of course you need not bring themessage back yourself. You can get the Commandant to telegraph--" Theslam of a door interrupted him--Chad was gone.
Harry was holding Dixie's bridle when he reached the street and Chadswung into the saddle.
"Don't tell them at home," he said. "I'll be back here on time, or I'llbe dead."
The two grasped hands. Harry nodded dumbly and Dixie's feet beat therhythm of her matchless gallop down the quiet street. The sensitivelittle mare seemed to catch at once the spirit of her rider. Herhaunches quivered. She tossed her head and champed her bit, but not apound did she pull as she settled into an easy lope that told how wellshe knew that the ride before her was long and hard. Out they went pastthe old cemetery, past the shaft to Clay rising from it, silvered withmoonlight, out where the picket fires gleamed and converging on towardthe Capital, unchallenged for the moon showed the blue of Chad'suniform and his face gave sign that no trivial business, that night,was his. Over quiet fields and into the aisles of sleeping woods beatthat musical rhythm ceaselessly, awakening drowsy birds by the wayside,making bridges thunder, beating on and on up hill and down until picketfires shone on the hills that guard the Capital. Through them, with butone challenge, Chad went, down the big hill, past the Armory, and intothe town--pulling panting Dixie up before a wondering sentinel whoguarded the Commandant's sleeping quarters.
"The Commandant is asleep."
"Wake him up," said Chad, sharply. A staff-officer appeared at the doorin answer to the sentinel's knock.
"What is your business?"
"A message from General Ward."
"The Commandant gave orders that he was not to be disturbed."
"He must be," said Chad. "It is a matter of life and death."
Above him a window was suddenly raised and
the Commandant's own headwas thrust out.
"Stop that noise," he thundered. Chad told his mission and theCommandant straightway was furious.
"How dare General Ward broach that matter again? My orders are givenand they will not be changed." As he started to pull the window down,Chad cried:
"But, General--" and at the same time a voice called down the street:
"General!" Two men appeared under the gaslight--one was a sergeant andthe other a frightened negro.
"Here is a message, General."
The sash went down, a light appeared behind it, and soon theCommandant, in trousers and slippers, was at the door. He read the notewith a frown.
"Where did you get this?"
"A sojer come to my house out on the edge o' town, suh, and said he'dkill me to-morrow if I didn't hand dis note to you pussonally."
The Commandant turned to Chad. Somehow his manner seemed suddenlychanged.
"Do you know that these men belonged to Morgan's command?"
"I know that Daniel Dean did and that the man Dillon was with him whencaptured."
Still frowning savagely, the Commandant turned inside to his desk and amoment later the staff-officer brought out a telegram and gave it toChad.
"You can take this to the telegraph office yourself. It is a stay ofexecution."
"Thank you."
Chad drew a long breath of relief and gladness and patted Dixie on theneck as he rode slowly toward the low building where he had missed thetrain on his first trip to the Capital. The telegraph operator dashedto the door as Chad drew up in front of it. He looked pale and excited.
"Send this telegram at once," said Chad.
The operator looked at it.
"Not in that direction to-night," he said, with a strained laugh, "thewires are cut."
Chad almost reeled in his saddle--then the paper was whisked from theastonished operator's hand and horse and rider clattered up the hill.
. . . . .
At head-quarters the Commandant was handing the negro's note to astaff-officer. It read:
"YOU HANG THOSE TWO MEN AT SUNRISE TO-MORROW, AND I'LL HANG YOU ATSUNDOWN."
It was signed "John Morgan," and the signature was Morgan's own.
"I gave the order only last night. How could Morgan have heard of it sosoon, and how could he have got this note to me? Could he have comeback?"
"Impossible," said the staff-officer. "He wouldn't dare come back now."
The Commandant shook his head doubtfully, and just then there was aknock at the door and the operator, still pale and excited, spoke hismessage:
"General, the wires are cut."
The two officers stared at each other in silence.
. . . . .
Twenty-seven miles to go and less than three hours before sunrise.There was a race yet for the life of Daniel Dean. The gallant littlemare could cover the stretch with nearly an hour to spare, and Chad,thrilled in every nerve, but with calm confidence, raced against thecoming dawn.
"The wires are cut."
Who had cut them and where and when and why? No matter--Chad had thepaper in his pocket that would save two lives and he would be on timeeven if Dixie broke her noble heart, but he could not get the words outof his brain--even Dixie's hoofs beat them out ceaselessly:
"The wires are cut--the wires are cut!"
The mystery would have been clear, had Chad known the message that layon the Commandant's desk back at the Capital, for the boy knew Morgan,and that Morgan's lips never opened for an idle threat. He would haveridden just as hard, had he known, but a different purpose would havebeen his.
An hour more and there was still no light in the East. An hour more andone red streak had shot upward; then ahead of him gleamed a picketfire--a fire that seemed farther from town than any post he had seen onhis way down to the Capital--but he galloped on. Within fifty yards acry came:
"Halt! Who comes there?"
"Friend," he shouted, reining in. A bullet whizzed past his head as hepulled up outside the edge of the fire and Chad shouted indignantly:
"Don't shoot, you fool! I have a message for General Ward!"
"Oh! All right! Come on!" said the sentinel, but his hesitation and thetone of his voice made the boy alert with suspicion. The other picketsabout the fire had risen and grasped their muskets. The wind flared theflames just then and in the leaping light Chad saw that their uniformswere gray.
The boy almost gasped. There was need for quick thought and quickaction now.
"Lower that blunderbuss," he called out, jestingly, and kicking loosefrom one stirrup, he touched Dixie with the spur and pulled her up withan impatient "Whoa," as though he were trying to replace his foot.
"You come on!" said the sentinel, but he dropped his musket to thehollow of his arm, and, before he could throw it to his shoulder again,fire flashed under Dixie's feet and the astonished rebel saw horse andrider rise over the pike-fence. His bullet went overhead as Dixielanded on the other side, and the pickets at the fire joined in afusillade at the dark shapes speeding across the bluegrass field. Amoment later Chad's mocking yell rang from the edge of the woods beyondand the disgusted sentinel split the night with oaths.
"That beats the devil. We never touched him I swear, I believe thathoss had wings."
Morgan! The flash of that name across his brain cleared the mystery forChad like magic. Nobody but Morgan and his daredevils could rise out ofthe ground like that in the very midst of enemies when they weresupposed to be hundreds of mlles away in Tennessee. Morgan had cutthose wires. Morgan had every road around Lexington guarded, no doubt,and was at that hour hemming in Chad's unsuspicious regiment, whosecamp was on the other side of town, and unless he could give warning,Morgan would drop like a thunderbolt on it, asleep. He must circle thetown now to get around the rebel posts, and that meant several milesmore for Dixie.
He stopped and reached down to feel the little mare's flanks. Dixiedrew a long breath and dropped her muzzle to tear up a rich mouthful ofbluegrass.
"Oh, you beauty!" said the boy, "you wonder!" And on he went, throughwoodland and field, over gully, log, and fence, bullets ringing afterhim from nearly every road he crossed.
Morgan was near. In disguise, when Bragg retreated, he had gotpermission to leave Kentucky in his own way. That meant wheeling andmaking straight back to Lexington to surprise the Fourth Ohio Cavalry;representing himself on the way, one night, as his old enemy Wolford,and being guided a short cut through the edge of the Bluegrass by anardent admirer of the Yankee Colonel--the said admirer giving Morganthe worst tirade possible, meanwhile, and nearly tumbling from hishorse when Morgan told him who he was and sarcastically advised him tomake sure next time to whom he paid his compliments.
So that while Chad, with the precious message under his jacket, andDixie were lightly thundering along the road, Morgan's Men weregobbling up pickets around Lexington and making ready for an attack onthe sleeping camp at dawn.
The dawn was nearly breaking now, and Harry Dean was pacing to and frobefore the old CourtHouse where Dan and Rebel Jerry lay underguard--pacing to and fro and waiting for his mother and sister to cometo say the last good-by to the boy--for Harry had given up hope and hadsent for them. At that very hour Richard Hunt was leading his regimentaround the Ashland woods where the enemy lay; another regiment wastaking its place between the camp and the town, and gray figures wereslipping noiselessly on the provost-guard that watched the rebelprisoners who were waiting for death at sunrise. As the dawn broke, thedash came, and Harry Dean was sick at heart as he sharply rallied thestartled guard to prevent the rescue of his own brother and straightwaydelirious with joy when he saw the gray mass sweeping on him and knewthat he would fail. A few shots rang out; the far rattle of musketryrose between the camp and town; the thunder of the "Bull Pups" salutedthe coming light, and Dan and Rebel Jerry had suddenly--instead ofdeath--life, liberty, arms, a horse each, and the sudden pursuit ofhappiness in a wild dash toward the Yankee camp, while in adew-drenched meadow two
miles away Chad Buford drew Dixie in to listen.The fight was on.
If the rebels won, Dan Dean would be safe; if the Yankees--then therewould still be need of him and the paper over his heart. He was toolate to warn, but not, maybe, to fight--so he galloped on.
But the end came as he galloped. The amazed Fourth Ohio threw down itsarms at once, and Richard Hunt and his men, as they sat on their horsesoutside the camp picking up stragglers, saw a lone scout coming at agallop across the still, gray fields. His horse was black and hisuniform was blue, but he came straight on, apparently not seeing therebels behind the ragged hedge along the road. When within thirtyyards, Richard Hunt rode through a roadside gate to meet him andsaluted.
"You are my prisoner," he said, courteously.
The Yankee never stopped, but wheeled, almost brushing the hedge as heturned.
"Prisoner--hell!" he said, clearly, and like a bird was skimming awaywhile the men behind the hedge, paralyzed by his daring, fired not ashot. Only Dan Dean started through the gate in pursuit.
"I want him," he said, savagely.
"Who's that?" asked Morgan, who had ridden up.
"That's a Yankee," laughed Colonel Hunt.
"Why didn't you shoot him?" The Colonel laughed again.
"I don't know," he said, looking around at his men, who, too, weresmiling.
"That's the fellow who gave us so much trouble in the Green RiverCountry," said a soldier. "It's Chad Buford."
"Well, I'm glad we didn't shoot him," said Colonel Hunt, thinking ofMargaret. That was not the way he liked to dispose of a rival.
"Dan will catch him," said an officer. "He wants him bad, and I don'twonder." Just then Chad lifted Dixie over a fence.
"Not much," said Morgan. "I'd rather you'd shot him than that horse."
Dan was gaining now, and Chad, in the middle of the field beyond thefence, turned his head and saw the lone rebel in pursuit. Deliberatelyhe pulled weary Dixie in, faced about, and waited. He drew his pistol,raised it, saw that the rebel was Daniel Dean, and dropped it again tohis side. Verily the fortune of that war was strange. Dan's horserefused the fence and the boy, in a rage, lifted his pistol and fired.Again Chad raised his own pistol and again he lowered it just as Danfired again. This time Chad lurched in his saddle, but recoveringhimself, turned and galloped slowly away, while Dan--his pistol hangingat his side--stared after him, and the wondering rebels behind thehedge stared hard at Dan.
. . . . .
All was over. The Fourth Ohio Cavalry was in rebel hands, and a fewminutes later Dan rode with General Morgan and Colonel Hunt toward theYankee camp. There had been many blunders in the fight. Regiments hadfired into each other in the confusion and the "Bull Pups" had kept onpounding the Yankee camp even while the rebels were taking possessionof it. On the way they met Renfrew, the Silent, in his brilliant Zouavejacket.
"Colonel," he said, indignantly--and it was the first time many hadever heard him open his lips--"some officer over there deliberatelyfired twice at me, though I was holding my arms over my head."
"It was dark," said Colonel Hunt, soothingly. "He didn't know you."
"Ah, Colonel, he might not have known me--but he must have known thisjacket."
On the outskirts of one group of prisoners was a tall, slender younglieutenant with a streak of blood across one cheek. Dan pulled in hishorse and the two met each other's eyes silently. Dan threw himselffrom his horse.
"Are you hurt, Harry?"
"It's nothing--but you've got me, Dan."
"Why, Harry!" said Morgan. "Is that you? You are paroled, my boy," headded, kindly. "Go home and stay until you are exchanged."
So, Harry, as a prisoner, did what he had not done before--he went homeimmediately. And home with him went Dan and Colonel Hunt, while theycould, for the Yankees would soon be after them from the north, east,south and west. Behind them trotted Rebel Jerry. On the edge of townthey saw a negro lashing a pair of horses along the turnpike towardthem. Two white faced women were seated in a carriage behind him, andin a moment Dan was in the arms of his mother and sister and both womenwere looking, through tears, their speechless gratitude to Richard Hunt.
The three Confederates did not stay long at the Deans'. Jerry Dillonwas on the lookout, and even while the Deans were at dinner, Rufus ranin with the familiar cry that Yankees were coming. It was a regimentfrom an adjoining county, but Colonel Hunt finished his coffee, amidall the excitement, most leisurely.
"You'll pardon us for eating and running, won't you, Mrs. Dean?" It wasthe first time in her life that Mrs. Dean ever speeded a parting guest.
"Oh, do hurry, Colonel--please, please." Dan laughed.
"Good-by, Harry," he said. "We'll give you a week or two at home beforewe get that exchange."
"Don't make it any longer than necessary, please," said Harry, gravely.
"We're coming back again, Mrs. Dean," said he Colonel, and then in alower tone to Margaret: "I'm coming often," he added, and Margaretblushed in a way that would not have given very great joy to oneChadwick Buford.
Very leisurely the three rode out to the pike gate, where they haltedand surveyed the advancing column, which was still several hundredyards away, and then with a last wave of their caps, started in a slowgallop for town. The advance guard started suddenly in pursuit, and theDeans saw Dan turn in his saddle and heard his defiant yell. Margaretran down and fixed her flag in its place on the fence--Harry watchingher.
"Mother," he said, sadly, "you don't know what trouble you may belaying up for yourself."
Fate could hardly lay up more than what she already had, but the mothersmiled.
"I can do nothing with Margaret," she said.
In town the Federal flags had been furled and the Stars and Bars thrownout to the wind. Morgan was preparing to march when Dan and ColonelHunt galloped up to head-quarters.
"They're coming," said Hunt, quietly.
"Yes," said Morgan, "from every direction."
"Ah, John," called an old fellow, who, though a Unionist, believing inkeeping peace with both sides, "when we don't expect you--then is thetime you come. Going to stay long?"
"Not long," said Morgan, grimly. "In fact, I guess we'll be movingalong now."
And he did--back to Dixie with his prisoners, tearing up railroads,burning bridges and trestles, and pursued by enough Yankees to haveeaten him and his entire command if they ever could have caught him. Asthey passed into Dixie, "Lightning" captured a telegraph office and hada last little fling at his Yankee brethren.
"Head-quarters, Telegraph Dept. of Ky., Confederate States ofAmerica"--thus he headed his General Order No.--to the various Unionauthorities throughout the State.
"Hereafter," he clicked, grinning, "an operator will destroytelegraphic instruments and all material in charge when informed thatMorgan has crossed the border. Such instances of carelessness as latelyhave been exhibited in the Bluegrass will be severely dealt with.
"By order of LIGHTNING, "Gen. Supt. C. S. Tel. Dept."
Just about that time Chad Buford, in a Yankee hospital, was coming backfrom the land of ether dreams. An hour later, the surgeon who had takenDan's bullet from his shoulder, handed him a piece of paper, black withfaded blood and scarcely legible.
"I found that in your jacket," he said. "Is it important?"
Chad smiled.
"No," he said. "Not now."