"I reckon," said Fred, quietly, "that I must make you more secure," and taking a stout strap he lashed him securely to a post.
"Is this the way you keep your oath?" hissed Calhoun, and he spat at Fred in his contempt. "Loose me, you sneaking villain, loose me at once, or I will raise an alarm, and Mr. Lane and his men will be here, and they will make short work of you."
Just then the notes of a bugle, sweet and clear, came floating through the air.
"Do you hear that, Cal?" answered Fred. "You had better raise no alarm; McCook's division is passing, and I have but to say a word and you swing."
Calhoun ground his teeth in impotent rage. At last he asked:
"Fred, what do you want? Why do you use me so? Have you not sworn to guard my life as sacredly as your own?"
Fred stood looking at his cousin a moment, as if in deep thought; then an expression of keenest pain came over his face, and he said in a strained, unnatural voice:
"Calhoun, believe me, I would I were dead instead of standing before you as I do now."
"I should think that you would, if you have a vestige of honor left," answered Calhoun, with a sneer. "An oath, which an honorable man would hold more sacred than life itself seems to be lightly regarded by you."
"I shall come to that directly," replied Fred, in the same unnatural tone. To him his voice sounded afar off, as if some one else were talking.