In the morning, as Fred was about to mount his horse to resume the march, he discovered that he had left his field-glass in the room he had occupied during the night. On returning for it, he heard voices in the next room, one of which sounded so familiar that he stopped a moment to listen, and to his amazement recognized the voice of his cousin Calhoun. What could it mean? What was he doing there? One thing was certain; he had been exchanged and was once more in the army. Calhoun and Mr. Lane were engaged in earnest conversation, and Fred soon learned that his cousin had been concealed in the house during the night.
"Have you learned what you wished?" Fred heard Mr. Lane ask.
"I have," replied Calhoun, "thanks to your kindness. I heard Nelson say he would rush his division through, and that he wanted to be in Savannah by the 5th. That is two days sooner than we expected. Johnston must, shall strike Grant before that time. I must be in Corinth within the next twenty-four hours, if I kill a dozen horses in getting there. Is my horse where I left him, at the stable in the woods?"
"He is," replied Mr. Lane; "and well cared for and groomed. But breakfast is ready; you must eat a hearty meal before you start."
Fred realized that the fate of an army was at stake. Something must be done, and that something must be done quickly. Slipping out of the house, he took a look around. Back of the house about a half a mile distant was a thick piece of wood. A lane led through the fields to this wood. No doubt it was there that Calhoun's horse was concealed.
Fred quickly made up his mind what to do. Mounting his horse, he rode rapidly away until out of sight of the house; then, making Prince jump the fence, he rode through the field until he reached the wood, and then back nearly to the lane he had noticed. Tying his horse, he crept close to the path, and concealed himself. He had not long to wait. He soon saw Calhoun coming up the path with quick, springing steps. To Fred's great joy he was alone. He let him pass, and then stealthily as an Indian followed him. Calhoun soon reached the rude stable, and went in.
"Now, my hearty," said he, as he patted his horse, "we have a long hard ride before us. But we carry news, my boy—news that may mean independence to the Sunny South."
Strong arms were suddenly thrown around him, and despite his desperate resistance and struggles, he soon found himself lying on his face, his hands held behind his back and securely tied. His ankles were then firmly bound together. When all this was done he was raised to his feet and a voice said:
"Sorry, Cal, but I had to do it," and to Calhoun's amazement his cousin stood before him, panting from his exertion.
For a moment Calhoun was speechless with astonishment; then his rage knew no limit, and bound as he was, he tried to get at his cousin.