“No; I told you I had never learned to swim when a boy.”
“When did you learn to swim?”
“After I became a man.”
Calhoun exploded. “Say, Latham,” he cried, “I forgive you. You are the slickest Yankee I ever met. I must be going, for I see your men are coming. Ta! ta!”
Calhoun turned and urged his horse up the bank, [pg 188]but not in time to escape having two balls sing uncomfortably close to his head.
Sergeant Latham had little trouble in recovering his arms from the river, as the water was not deep where Calhoun had thrown them.
The Sergeant made the following report of the affair to his superior officer:
Sir: I have the honor to report that a Rebel scout crossed the Cumberland to-day near the post where I was stationed. I followed him into the river, but my horse being a poor swimmer, I was forced to abandon him in mid-stream to save myself.
Silas Latham, Sergeant.
The capture of Latham’s horse and the ludicrous affair with him put Calhoun in the best of humor. He reached the house of Mr. Edmunds without further adventure, and met with a hearty welcome from that gentleman, who informed him that his men had lingered a day longer than he had ordered, in the hope that he would return.