“Who is afraid of Morgan!” exclaimed Red Bill, with an oath. “He and the rest of you are nuthin’ but hoss-thieves an’ yo’ will all hang one of these days. I know yo’, my young rooster, you air the son of that ole Rebil, Judge Pennington of Danville. I hev it in fur him.”
“And I know you now,” hotly replied Calhoun, forgetting the danger he was in. “You used to live in Danville, and went by the name of Red Bill. Your popularity consisted in the fact that [pg 103]you were known as an adept chicken-thief. My father once sent you to jail for petit larceny.”
Bill’s face grew still redder. “Yo’ lie, yo’ dog!” he hissed. “Yo’ father did send me to jail, but I war innocent, an’ he knowed it. But he thought I war only po’ white trash, while he is an aristocrat. I swore to hev my revenge, an’ I will hev it. Boys, what do we-uns do with hoss-thieves in ole Kentuck?”
“Hang ’em,” exclaimed four or five voices.
“An’ we-uns will hang this crowin’ bantam. I will learn him to call me a chicken-thief, classin’ me with niggers!” exclaimed Red Bill, with fury.
“What will we-uns do with the other feller?” asked one of the men.
“Hang him too. Dead men don’t talk.”
But some of the gang began to demur over this summary proceeding, saying that the Federal authorities would deal severely with them if it became known they murdered prisoners in cold blood. Not only this, but Morgan had captured hundreds of Home Guards and paroled them. But if they should execute one of his prominent officers, he would show no mercy.
The discussion became so hot, they came nearly fighting among themselves. At last one of them said, “I am tired of the hull business. I am goin’ home.”
“An’ I!” “An’ I!” cried a dozen voices.