“You don’t tell me you are the son of my old friend, Judge Pennington, of Danville,” asked Mr. Bullock, as he shook Calhoun warmly by the hand.
“The very same,” answered Calhoun.
“Gentlemen, we need have no fears of Lieutenant Pennington,” exclaimed Mr. Bullock, addressing those present. “I will vouch for him with my life. Let’s see, your name is now—”
“Harrison for the present,” answered Calhoun, with a smile.
The party had no trouble in getting across the river, and that night there was a meeting in Windsor which boded ill for the Federal government.
The Supreme Commander of the order was a gentleman in the full vigor of manhood. He was polished in his manner, rather reserved, but every action showed that he was accustomed to command. Behind it all Calhoun thought that he detected the signs of an inordinate ambition—an ambition which would stop for nothing.
“Isn’t he grand,” whispered Dr. Warrenton to Calhoun. “A fit representative to wear the mantle of your great namesake.”
“Better say the mantle of Aaron Burr,” thought Calhoun, but he wisely did not give expression to his thought. The object of Calhoun’s coming was fully explained, and it was decided by a unanimous vote, that he should receive the fourth degree, [pg 216]and thus be entitled to all the information which he wished.
The degree was duly conferred on him. Calhoun was now certain he was among a band of conspirators who would stop at nothing to achieve their ends.
“Is this the highest of the degrees?” asked Calhoun, when he was through.