“Lieutenant Calhoun Pennington of Morgan’s staff ... will go by name of W. B. Harrison ... comes North to fully investigate conditions.... If favorable will invade North.... Pennington is member of K. G. C.”
The Judge laid down the letter and seemed to be gazing into vacancy. He was thinking—thinking hard. At last he picked up the letter and read it through to the end. Then he made preparations to go out.
“I shall not be back again this afternoon,” he said to his clerk, as he passed out. “You can lock up the office when you leave. I shall not need you this evening.”
When Calhoun called that evening, he was met at the door by the Judge, and given a reception much different from that he received in the afternoon.
“I am glad to see you, Lieutenant,” said the Judge, and he raised his hand as if in military salute, but was careful not to touch his forehead.
“And I am rejoiced to make the acquaintance of Judge Worley,” replied Calhoun, raising his hand as if to shade his eyes from the light.
They then advanced and grasped each other by the hand, the fore-finger of each resting on the pulse of the other.
“Nu,” said Calhoun.
“Oh,” responded the Judge.
“Lac,” answered Calhoun.