“For the Lord’s sake, keep his head above water,” shouted Latham from behind, as the horse made a fearful plunge.
For the next few minutes Calhoun had enough to do without looking to see what had become of Latham. The horse, as the Sergeant had said, proved a poor swimmer. Twice he came near drowning; but at last managed to struggle through. When he got to where the water was shallow enough for the horse to wade, Calhoun looked around to see how Latham had fared.
To his surprise he saw that worthy leaning against a tree on the bank from which they had started, and apparently he had been watching the struggles of the horse in the water with a great deal of satisfaction.
Calhoun hardly knew whether to laugh or get angry. Riding to the edge of the water, he turned [pg 187]his horse around, and yelled over, “You are a pretty fellow, you are! Like most Yankees, your word of honor is worthless.”
“Did just what I said I would!” yelled back Latham.
“You did not. You told me you would hold on that horse’s tail like grim death.”
“And so I did. I am holding on to it yet,” and to Calhoun’s surprise Latham shook a large piece of the horse’s tail at him. He had neatly severed it.
Calhoun shook with suppressed laughter, but assuming a severe tone, he said: “You lied to me like a Turk, anyway, you miserable Yankee; you told me you could not swim.”
“I told you no such thing, you skulking Rebel,” yelled back Latham, wrathfully. “Come back here and fight me like a man, and I will wallop you until you can’t stand, for calling me a liar. I would have you know I am a member of the church in good standing.”
“Didn’t you tell me you couldn’t swim?”