Conway fairly turned purple with rage. “Lieutenant Pennington has no reason to be proud of his relationship to that sneak and spy,” he snorted.
“I have no more reason to love my cousin than you,” replied Calhoun, with some warmth. “He may have played the spy; so have I; but sneak he is not, and I would thank you not to use the term again, traitor though he is to the South and his native state.”
Conway glared at him for a moment, but there was something in Calhoun’s eye which told him that if he repeated the term it might cause trouble, so he snapped: “Well, spy and traitor, if those terms suit you better; but it may be of interest to you to know that I have sworn to see that precious cousin of yours hanged, and”—with a fearful oath—“I will see that he is.”
With these words he turned on his heel and stalked away.
“Shackelford’s name has the same effect on [pg 26]Conway that a red rag has on a mad bull,” laughed Morgan. “He can never forget that trick your cousin played on him.”
“Ah! I remember,” said Calhoun; “Fred told me all about it. Conway may take a dislike to me simply because I am Fred’s cousin. I noticed that he greeted me rather coldly.”
“I reckon he will not carry his hatred so far as that,” replied Morgan, “yet it may be best not to mention Shackelford’s name to him.”
But Morgan might have changed his mind if he had heard Conway talking to a brother officer.
“Just to think,” he fumed, “that the Captain picked on that young upstart to go back to Kentucky to recruit instead of one of us. I volunteered to go yesterday, and he put me down. To my mind, Pennington is no better than that sneak of a cousin of his, and Morgan will find it out some day.”
“Better keep a still tongue in your head, Conway,” dryly replied the officer, a Captain Matthews, to whom Conway was complaining. “Morgan will give you hell if he finds you are trying to create dissatisfaction.”