Calhoun pressed Fred's hand, and whispered, "Good for you, Fred; you have got me out of a bad scrape. I think father will consent to my going in the army now."
The judge stared at the boys, and then sputtered: "Both of you ought to be soundly thrashed. But if Fred's mind is made up, it is no use pursuing the matter further."
"I am firmly resolved," answered Fred.
"Then," answered the judge, "I will say no more, only, Fred, my house is open to you. When you get sick of your foolish experiment you can have a home here. Your father refuses to see you unless you consent to obey."
"I thank you, uncle," said Fred, in a low voice, "but I do not think I shall trouble you much."
In justice to Mr. Shackelford, it must be said it was by his request that Judge Pennington made this offer to Fred. Mr. Shackelford's heart had softened towards his son, and he did not wish to cast him off entirely. But the destiny of father and son was to be more closely interwoven than either thought.
Fred remained at his uncle's until the next day. He and Calhoun slept together or rather occupied the same bed, for they had too much talking to do to sleep. Both boys were romantic and fond of adventure. Both longed for the fierce excitement of war. They did not talk as enemies. They did not realize that they might face each other on the field of battle. They talked of their oath, and again promised to keep it to the letter.
They were like two brothers, each going on a long journey in different directions.
Their parting the next morning was most affectionate, and when Fred rode away he turned his horse's head in the direction of Camp Dick Robinson.