"Not at all. The politicians at Washington have never yet recognized the magnitude of the war in which we are engaged. Then their whole life is office, and they are afraid of doing something that will lose them a vote. As for the newspapers, they would rather print a sensation than have us win a victory. My God! They have called me crazy so much they have alarmed my wife," and the general again indulged in another burst of anger. When he became calmer, he said: "Gentlemen, I thank you for your expressions of sympathy and confidence. I trust my successor will be more worthy than I," and he bowed the delegation out.
Fred remained standing. The general noticed him, and asked: "Well, my boy, what is it? Why, bless my soul, it's Fred Shackelford! Just from General Nelson, Fred?"
"Yes, General, with dispatches," and he handed them to him.
"I will read them when I cool off a little; I have been rather warm. I see your arm is in a sling; been in a skirmish?"
"Yes, General, a small one. The wound didn't amount to much; it is nearly well."
"You should be thankful it is no worse. Come in in the morning, Fred; I will have the dispatches read by that time."
Fred called, as requested, the next morning, and found the general calm and courteous as ever. The storm had passed away.
"General Nelson writes good news," said Sherman. "He reports he has entirely driven the Rebels out of the valley of the Big Sandy. He also tells me in a private letter of your capture and escape. He speaks of the desperate conflict that you and your comrade had with four Rebel cavalrymen. It was a most remarkable adventure. My boy, I shall keep my eye on you. I surely should ask for your services myself if I were going to remain in command of the department."