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His daughter had to a degree imbibed his sentiments, and the idea of slavery was abhorrent to her; but her heart was so gentle, she could hate no one. Calhoun’s helplessness appealed to her sympathies, and she forgot he was one of Morgan’s raiders.
Joyce had the men get the water, while she procured some underclothes which belonged to her brother. Calhoun’s clothes were now removed, clothes which had not been off him for a month. “Here is a belt,” said one of the men; “it looks as if it might contain money,” and he was proceeding to examine it when the Doctor forbade him. “Give it to Miss Joyce,” he said; “the fellow is her prisoner.”
“It’s nearly noon, too,” continued the Lieutenant, after the interruption, “and that spring near the house is a splendid place to rest our horses and eat our dinners; so fall in.” The Lieutenant slowly mounted Calhoun’s horse, for his fall had made him sore, and in none the best of humor, he gave the command, “Forward!” The plantation of Mr. Osborne was soon reached. It was a beautiful place.
Miss Goodsen, in her excitement did not notice that Joyce was fully dressed. “The wounded Rebel, Lieutenant Pennington,” she fairly shrieked. “Oh! what shall I do? What shall I do?” and she wrung her hands in her distress. Joyce ran to Calhoun’s room; sure enough it was empty. “Stop your noise,” she said, sharply, to Miss Goodsen. “If any one is to blame, I am. They will do nothing with you.
No, he thought not. They knew too well how to control themselves for that. It was with a beating heart that Calhoun waited for the time of the first meal. It came, and the Confederate prisoners came marching in. How Calhoun’s heart thrilled at the sight of his old comrades! But if they recognized him they did not show it by look or sign.
One of the soldiers coolly took the halter off his horse, fastened it around Calhoun’s neck, threw the other end over the projecting limb of a tree, and stood awaiting orders. Once more an ignominious death stared Calhoun in the face, and there was no Captain Huffman near to rescue him. It looked as if nothing could save him, but his self-possession did not forsake him.
It was some hours before Calhoun began to show signs of consciousness, and when he did come to, he was delirious, and in a raging fever. The Doctor returned as he had promised. He shook his head as he felt Calhoun’s pulse, and listened to his incoherent mutterings. “This is bad,” he said. “It is fortunate he lost so much blood, or this fever would consume him. But we must hope for the best.
For answer there came the sharp crack of rifles, the rush of armed men, and the infuriated Texans were on them. No mercy was shown; in a moment it was all over. Quickly the cords which bound Calhoun and Nevels were cut, and the terrible nooses removed from their necks. “Thank God, we were in time!” cried Captain Huffman, wringing Calhoun’s hand. But Calhoun stood as one in a trance.
Conway glared at him for a moment, but there was something in Calhoun’s eye which told him that if he repeated the term it might cause trouble, so he snapped: “Well, spy and traitor, if those terms suit you better; but it may be of interest to you to know that I have sworn to see that precious cousin of yours hanged, and”—with a fearful oath—“I will see that he is.”
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.
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