“Uncle Dick, do you not know me?” asked Calhoun, in a broken voice.
General Shackelford stared at Calhoun in astonishment. “It cannot be, yes, it is Cal!” he exclaimed, and the next moment he had Calhoun by the hand, and was nearly shaking it off.
“And you have been in a Northern prison, have you?” asked the General.
“No, but I was wounded near unto death. Fortunately I fell into kind hands.”
“But your looks, Cal; you are nothing but skin and bones.”
“No wonder. I have not had enough to eat in the last seven days to keep a bird alive. Then I was none too strong when I started on my journey south.”
“Tell me about it some other time,” said the General. “What you want now is rest and something to eat.”
And rest and food Calhoun got.
When he came to tell his story it was listened to with wonder. He was taken to General Joseph E. Johnston, then in command of the Confederate forces around Dalton, and the story was repeated.
“You know, I presume,” said Johnston, “that Morgan escaped, and is now in Richmond.”