CHAPTER VIII. A DARING DEED.
Fred did not stop in Danville; instead, he avoided the main street, so as to be seen by as few of his acquaintances as possible. He rode straight on to Lebanon before he stopped. Here he put up for the night, giving himself and his horse a good rest. The country was in such a disturbed condition that every stranger was regarded with suspicion, and forced to answer a multitude of questions. Fred did not escape, and to all he gave the same answer, that he was from Danville, and that he was on his way to Elizabethtown to visit his sick grandfather.
One gentleman was exceedingly inquisitive. He was especially interested in Prince, examining him closely, and remarking he was one of the finest horses he ever saw. Fred learned that the man's name was Mathews, that he was a horse dealer, and was also a violent sympathizer with the South. He was also reputed to be something of a bully. Fred thought some of his questions rather impertinent, and gave rather short answers, which did not seem to please Mathews.
Leaving Lebanon early the next morning, he rode nearly west, it being his intention to strike the Louisville and Nashville railroad a little south of Elizabethtown. It was a beautiful September day, and as Fred cantered along, he sang snatches of songs, and felt merrier and happier than at any time since that sad parting with his father. Where was his father now? Where was his cousin Calhoun? And he thought of that strange oath which bound Calhoun and himself together, and wondered what would come of it all. But what was uppermost in his mind was the object of his present journey. Was there anything in it, or was it a fool's errand? Time would tell. As he was riding along a country road, pondering these things, it suddenly occurred to him that the landscape appeared familiar. He reined up his horse, and looked around. The fields stretching away before him, the few trees, and above all a tumbled down, half-ruined log hut. It was all so familiar. Yet he knew he had never been there before. What did it mean? Could he have seen this in a dream sometime? The more he looked, the more familiar it seemed; and the more he was troubled.
A countryman came along riding a raw-boned spavined horse; a rope served for a bridle, and an old coffee sack strapped on the sharp back of the horse took the place of a saddle. Having no stirrups, the countryman's huge feet hung dangling down and swung to and fro, like two weights tied to a string; a dilapidated old hat, through whose holes stuck tufts of his bleached tow hair, adorned his head.
"Stranger, you 'uns 'pears to be interested," he remarked to Fred, as he reined in his steed, and at the same time ejected about a pint of tobacco juice from his capacious mouth.
"Yes," answered Fred, "this place seems to be very familiar—one that I have seen many times; yet to my certain knowledge, I have never been here before. I can't understand it."
"Seen it in a picter, I reckon," drawled the countryman.