But just as they were about to start on their desperate attempt, they were surprised to see Fred riding towards them, waving a white handkerchief. When he came in hailing distance, he cried:
"Men, your gallant young leader lies over here grievously hurt. We are going to withdraw," and wheeling his horse, he rode swiftly back.
Fred hastily made preparations to withdraw. One of his men was so badly wounded that he had to be supported on his horse; therefore their progress was slow, and it was night before they reached camp. Fred made his report to General Schoepf and turned over his two prisoners. The general was well pleased, and extended to Fred and the soldiers with him his warmest congratulations.
"If you had only brought in that daring young lieutenant with you your victory would have been complete," said the general.
"I hardly think, General," said Fred, "that you will be troubled with him any more. He was still insensible when we left, and with my three wounded men and the two prisoners it was well-nigh an impossibility for us to bring him in."
"I know," replied the General, "and as you say, I think we have had the last of him."
"I sincerely hope so," was Fred's answer as he turned away, and it meant more than the general thought. Fred had a horror of meeting his cousin in conflict, and devoutly prayed he might never do so again. He slept little that night. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the pale face of his cousin lying there in the wood, and the thought that he might be dangerously hurt, perhaps dead, filled him with terror. "Why," he asked himself over and over again, "did the fortune of war bring us together?"
Let us return to the scene of the conflict, and see how Calhoun is getting along. The Confederates received Fred's message with surprise.
"That lets us out of a mighty tough scrape," remarked the sergeant. "We must have hurt them worse than we thought."