“Oh, Lawd! Oh, Lawd! hang youn’ Massa?” she cried. “Ole Chloe tell no one.”
“That’s right, Aunt Chloe. Now bake those biscuits I see you are making, in a hurry. And make my favorite pie. I want to eat one more meal of your cooking. No one can cook like Aunt Chloe.”
“Yo’ shell hev a meal fit fo’ de king!” cried the old negress, her face all aglow.
“You must hurry, Chloe, for I can’t stay long. Now I will go and surprise father.” And surprise him he did. The old Judge could hardly believe the seeming country boy was his son.
“Where in the world did you come from?” he asked.
“From Corinth,” answered Calhoun. “I am now back to recruit for Morgan.”
“So you have joined Morgan, have you?”
“Yes. Now that Governor Johnson is killed, I know of no service I would like as well as to ride with Morgan.”
“You could have come home, my son.”
“Father! what do you mean? Come home while the South is bleeding at every pore? Come [pg 60]home like a craven while the contest is yet undecided?”