"Are you sure you looked well?" asked Morgan.
"Quite sure."
"Gentlemen," said the landlord, "this room is kept locked. No one could have got into it."
"All I know," said the major, "I met him about three paces from the door, just as I turned the corner. When I attempted to stop him, he suddenly struck the blow and disappeared. If it was not for his black hair, I should be more than ever convinced that the boy was Fred Shackelford."
"In league with the devil, probably," growled Captain Conway. "For if there was ever one of his imps on earth, it's that Shackelford boy. Curse him, I will be even with him yet."
"And so will I," replied the major, gently feeling of his swollen nose.
"Gentlemen," said John H. Morgan, "this is no time for idle regrets. Whether that boy has heard anything or not, we cannot tell. But from what Major Hockoday has said, there is no doubt but that he is a spy. His assault on the major and fleeing show that. So it behooves us to be careful. I have a trusty agent at Nicholasville, who keeps me fully informed of all that transpires there. I will telegraph him particulars, and have him be on the watch for such a boy."
It was an uneasy crowd that separated that night. It looked as if one boy might bring to naught all their well-laid plans.
The next morning Morgan received the following telegram from Nicholasville: