"Your name?"
"Frederic Shackelford."
"Frederic, you have a good horse?"
"Yes, sir; one of the best and fastest in Kentucky."
"Good; now Frederic, you told me that you loved the Union."
"Yes, sir. I promised my mother on her deathbed ever to be faithful to the old flag."
"Would Kentucky had more such mothers. A boy like you never breaks a promise to a mother. Frederic, do you want to do your country a great service, something that may save Kentucky to the Union?"
"What is it, sir?"
"To take some important dispatches to Louisville. Can you make Nicholasville by ten o'clock? A train leaves there at that hour for Lexington, thence to Louisville, arriving early in the morning."
Fred looked at his watch. "It is now seven," he said. "Yes, I can make Nicholasville by ten o'clock, if I have the dispatches right away."
"They will be ready in ten minutes," said Nelson, turning away.
In less than ten minutes the dispatches were given to Fred with instructions to place them at the earliest possible moment in the hands of James Speed, Garrett Davis, J. T. Boyle, or any one of a score of loyal Louisvillians whose names were handed him on a separate sheet of paper.
Fred mounted his horse and rode away, and soon the swift beating of his horse's hoofs on the dusty turnpike died away in the distance.
CHAPTER III.
THE DAY AFTER BULL RUN
Could Frederic Shackelford reach Nicholasville in less than three hours? "Yes, it can be done, and I will do it," thought he as he urged his steed onward, and left mile after mile behind him. It was the test of speed and bottom of the best horse in Kentucky against time.
While Fred is making this desperate ride, our young readers may wish to be more formally introduced to the brave rider, as well as to the other characters in the story. Frederic Shackelford was the only son of Richard Shackelford, a prosperous Kentucky planter and a famous breeder of horses. Mr. Shackelford was a graduate of Harvard, and while in college had become acquainted with Laura Carrington, one of the belles of Boston, and a famous beauty. But Miss Carrington's personal charms were no greater than her beauty of mind and character. After the completion of his college course, Mr. Shackelford married Miss Carrington, and transplanted her to his Kentucky home. The fruits of this union were two children, Frederic, at the opening of this story a sturdy boy of sixteen, and Belle, a lovely little girl of twelve. Mrs. Shackelford was very happy in her Kentucky home. She was idolized by her husband, who did everything possible for her comfort. Yet, in the midst of her happiness and the kindness shown her, Mrs. Shackelford could not help feeling that there was a kind of contempt among native Kentuckians for New England Yankees. As the strife over slavery grew fiercer, the feeling against the North, especially New England, grew stronger. Many a time she felt like retorting when she heard those she loved traduced, but she hid the wound in her heart, and kept silent. But she could never accustom herself to the institution of slavery. She was a kind mistress, and the slaves of the plantation looked upon her as little less than an angel; but she could never close her eyes to the miseries that slavery brought in its train.
She died a few days after Fort Sumter was fired upon. A few hours before she passed away she called Frederic to her bedside, told him how his great-grandfather had died on Bunker Hill, and asked him to give her a solemn promise to ever be true to the flag of his country.
"Remember, my son," she said, "that a just God will never prosper a nation whose chief corner-stone is human slavery."
These words sank deep into Frederic's heart, and were ever with him during all the dark and terrible days which followed. He readily gave his mother the promise she requested, and a few hours afterward she sank peacefully to rest.
As much as Frederic loved his mother, and as deeply as he grieved for her in the months and years that followed, he thanked God that she had been spared the misery and agony that would have been hers if she had lived.
Mr. Shackelford was so prostrated by the death of his wife that for some weeks he paid no attention to the turmoil going on around him. He was an old line Whig in politics, but a stout believer in the rights of the State. He deplored the war, and hoped against hope that some way might be found to avert it.
Judge Horace Pennington, the father of Calhoun, was one of the most honored citizens of Danville. He was a veritable Southern fire-eater, and had nothing but contempt for anything that came from the North. But his integrity was as sterling as his politics were violent. He was the soul of honor and truth, and despised anything that looked like deception. He had no words too strong in which to express his contempt for the part Kentucky was taking in the great drama that was being enacted. When the State refused to join the Southern Confederacy his rage knew no bounds. He would have nothing to do with the plotting that was going on. "Let us go out like men," he would say, "not creep out like thieves." When the State declared for neutrality, he said: "The State is sovereign; she can do as she pleases, but it is a cowardly makeshift; it will not last."
The mother of Calhoun was a sister of Mr. Shackelford, but she died when Calhoun was a baby, and for years another Mrs. Pennington had presided over the Judge's household. For this reason much of the childhood of Calhoun had been spent at the home of his uncle, and thus it was that he and Frederic were more like brothers than cousins.
The position of Kentucky, at the beginning of the great Civil War, was peculiar. She refused to furnish troops for the suppression of the rebellion; she refused to secede. Her governor was an ardent Secessionist; the majority of the members of the Legislature were for the maintenance of the Union. Her people were nearly equally divided. As a last resort the Legislature passed resolutions of neutrality, and both the Federal and Confederate governments were warned not to invade her sacred soil. For a time both governments, in part, respected her position, and sent no troops from other States into her territory. But the citizens of Kentucky were not neutral. They violently espoused the cause of one side or the other. Thousands of Kentuckians left the State and joined the armies of the Confederacy. All through the State the secession element was very active, and the Federal government saw it must take some action or the State would be lost to the Union. So Lieutenant William Nelson of the United States navy, and a native Kentuckian, was commissioned to raise ten regiments of Kentucky troops for service in the Union army. This movement met with the most violent opposition, even from many professed Union men, who claimed that Kentucky's position of neutrality should be respected. The militia of the State, known as "State Guards," was mostly officered and controlled by the Southern element. In opposition to the "State Guards," companies were organized throughout the State known as "Home Guards." The "Home Guards" were Union men. Thus Kentucky was organized into two great hostile camps. Such was the condition of affairs at the opening of this story.
It lacked just five minutes of ten o'clock when Fred reined in his reeking horse before the hotel at Nicholasville. Placing the bridle in the hands of the black hostler, and handing him a ten-dollar bill, Fred said: "I must take the train. This horse has been ridden fast and long. See that he has every attention. You know what to do in such cases."
"Trus' ole Peter fo' dat," answered the darky, bowing and scraping. "Youn' massa will hab his hoss bac' jes as good as ebber."
Fred just had time to catch the train, as it moved out from the depot. When Lexington was reached he had to make a change for Louisville. The news of the defeat of the Federal forces at Bull Run had reached Lexington, and late as it was the streets were thronged with an excited crowd. Cheers for Beauregard and the Southern Confederacy seemed to be on every tongue. If the Union had friends, they were silent. In the estimation of the excited crowd the South was already victorious; the North humbled and vanquished. It was now but a step before Washington would be in the possession of the Southern army, and Lincoln a prisoner or a fugitive.
That the Union army had been defeated was a surprise to Fred. He now knew why Nelson was so urgent about the dispatches, and realized as never before that the nation was engaged in a desperate conflict. The cries of the mob angered him. "I wonder where the Union men are," he growled;