"I knew," spoke up a young lieutenant, "that those miserable Eastern Yankees would not stand up before the Southern soldiers. We might as well disband and go home; all is lost."
"Lost! lost!" thundered Nelson, turning on the young lieutenant like a tiger. "Go home, you craven, if you want to; all is not lost, and will not be lost until every loyal son of Kentucky is slain. We have enough men at Dick Robinson, poorly armed and equipped as they are, to hold Central Kentucky. With such colonels as Fry, Bramlette, Garrard Wolford, and the host of gallant officers under them, I defy the devil and all the Secessionists in the State to wrest Central Kentucky from us."
And with loud huzzahs the officers present swore to stand by Nelson, and come what might, they would hold Central Kentucky for the Union. How well that pledge was kept history tells.
"It is not for Central Kentucky, I fear," continued Nelson; "it is for Louisville. Can we save that city for the Union? It must be saved. The loyal men there must save it, at all hazards. They must know that we are standing firm in Central Kentucky. But how? The telegraph is in the hands of the enemy. Any word I sent would be known at once. Oh! I have it, Fry; send for that light-haired boy I was talking with at the hotel. Have him here right away."
Fred Shackelford was found just as he was mounting his horse to return home. Wondering what Nelson wanted with him, he accompanied the messenger to that officer's room, where they found him pacing up and down the apartment like a caged lion.
"Where is your companion?" abruptly asked Nelson of Fred.
"At home; he lives here," answered Fred.
"Where is your home?"
"A few miles out on the Richmond road."
"Your name?"