No sooner did the Judge see him than he cried, “Calhoun! Calhoun! what have you done! Do you know they are on the watch for you?”
“I had to see you once more before I went,” answered Calhoun. “I was careful, and I do not think any one saw me come. I have some things of importance to tell you.”
Father and son talked together for some five minutes in low, confidential tones, when they were interrupted by Jennie Freeman bursting unan[pg 66]nounced into the room and crying, “Run, Cal, run! the soldiers are coming! They are most here!” And before either could say a word, she was out again like a flash.
“Who would have thought it, of that Abolitionist Freeman’s daughter,” gasped the Judge. “Fly, my boy, fly! and may God protect you.”
Calhoun knew his danger. Grasping his trusty revolver, he cried, “Good-bye, all,” and ran through the house to pass out by the back way. Just as he reached the door, it was opened, and he fairly rushed into the arms of a soldier who was entering. So surprised were both that they could only stare at each other for a brief second; but Calhoun recovered himself first, and dealt the soldier a terrific blow over the head with the butt of his revolver. The soldier sank down with a moan, and Calhoun sprang out over his prostrate body, only to meet and overturn another soldier who was just ascending the steps. The force of the collision threw him headlong, but he was up again in a twinkling, and disappeared in the darkness, followed by a few ineffectual shots by the baffled Federals.
Judge Pennington heard the firing and groaned, “My son, oh, my son!”
The firing had alarmed the neighborhood, and there were many pale faces, for the people knew not what it meant.
A short time afterwards a Federal officer arrested [pg 67]Judge Pennington, and he was dragged off to jail. But he did not think of himself. “My son,” he asked, “was he captured? was he hurt?”
“I think the devil protected his own,” roughly replied the officer, “but we will attend to you for harboring Rebels.”
Judge Pennington lay in jail among criminals, not only that night, but for nearly a week. There was talk of sending him to a Northern prison as a dangerous man. But Fred Shackelford heard of his arrest and his probable fate, and came in and had a stormy interview with the Federal commander. He showed that Judge Pennington had committed no overt act; that his son, who was a Confederate soldier, had simply come to visit him, and had resisted capture, as any soldier had a right to do. As Fred threatened to report the case to the commander of the Department, the Judge was released.