These Home Guards were very bitter, and lost no opportunity of harassing those who clung to the cause of the South. Now and then there were bands of these Guards that were nothing but bands of guerrillas who lived by plundering, and they were frequently guilty of the most cold-blooded murders. It was by such a band that Calhoun was captured. He had been scouting toward Frankfort to see if the Federals were moving any considerable body of troops from that place to attack Morgan. He found them so frightened that they were not thinking of attacking Morgan; they were bending every nerve to defend the city from an expected attack by him. He was on his way back with the news that [pg 95]there was no danger from the direction of Frankfort, when he was told that a band of Home Guards, that were in fact a set of robbers, had their haunts in the rough, hilly country to the south of him, and he determined to try to effect their capture. After riding several miles, and hearing nothing of them, he ordered a return to Midway.
The day was very hot, and coming to a cross-road, where several trees cast their grateful shade and a little brook ran babbling by, he ordered his men to halt and rest. The shade and the water were very acceptable to both man and beast; dismounting, the men lay sprawling around in the shade. Seeing a house standing on an eminence up the cross-road, Calhoun decided to take one of his soldiers named Nevels, and ride up to it to see if he could learn anything.
“Better let us all go, there is no telling what one may run into in this country,” said a sergeant named Graham, who in the absence of Calhoun would be in command of the little company.
“No, Graham,” answered Calhoun, “both men and horses are tired, and need the little rest they are getting. I do not think there is any danger. If I see anything suspicious, I will signal to you.” With these words Calhoun with his companion rode away.
“There he goes as careless as if there was not an enemy within forty miles,” said Graham, looking after them, and shaking his head. “I tell you the Lieutenant will get into trouble some of these [pg 96]days. He is altogether too rash; never thinks of danger.”
“Don’t worry about the Lieutenant,” lazily replied one of the men; “he never gets into a scrape without getting out of it. He is a good one, he is.”
The Sergeant did not answer, but stood earnestly gazing after his chief, who by this time was about a quarter of a mile away. Here Calhoun and Nevels descended into a depression, which for a moment would hide them from the watchful eyes of the Sergeant.
As Calhoun entered this depression, he noticed that a thick growth of underbrush came up close to the side of the road, affording a splendid place for concealment. For a moment a feeling as of unseen danger came over him, but nothing suspicious could be seen or heard, and dismissing the thought, he rode forward. Suddenly Calhoun’s horse stopped and pricked up his ears.
“What’s the matter, Selim? What do you see?” exclaimed Calhoun, as he gently touched him with the spur.
The horse sprang forward, but had gone but a few yards, when as suddenly as if they had arisen out of the ground, a dozen men, with levelled guns, arose by the side of the road, and demanded their surrender. Desperate as the chance was, Calhoun wheeled his horse to flee, when before him stood a dozen more men; his retreat was cut off.