“Go, and be back as soon as possible,” replied Morgan, “but be careful; do not take too many risks.”
With a dozen of his trusty scouts, Calhoun had no trouble in reaching the bank of the Cumberland [pg 144]River opposite Hartsville. Here, concealed in the woods, through his glass he noted the position of every regiment, and drew a map of the camp. But he was not satisfied with this. Under the cover of darkness he crossed the river, determined to learn more. Above all, he wished to learn where the enemy’s pickets were posted at night, their exact force, as nearly as possible, and the discipline which they were under. He wanted to do all this without alarming them.
After crossing the river he concluded to call at a commodious farm-house, situated some three miles from Hartsville. He was almost certain of a hearty welcome; there were few disloyal to the South in that section. At first he was taken for a Federal soldier in disguise, and admittance was refused; but once the inmates were convinced that he was one of Morgan’s men, the heartiness of his welcome made up for the coldness of his first reception.
The planter was well posted. There was one brigade at Hartsville. Until a few days before, the brigade had been commanded by a Colonel Scott, but he had been relieved by a Colonel Moore. This Moore was the colonel of one of the regiments at Hartsville, and had been in the service but a short time. Most of the troops were raw and inexperienced. Calhoun was glad to hear all this.
In the morning, dressed as a rough country boy, he made a circuit of the entire place. This he did by going on foot, and keeping to the fields and woods. The location of every picket post was [pg 145]carefully noted, and the best way to approach each one. In two or three instances he did not hesitate to approach soldiers who were foraging outside of the lines, and in a whining tone, enter into conversation with them, informing them he was looking for some of his father’s pigs.
“Mighty ’fraid sum ov yo-uns Yanks got ’em,” he said, with a sigh.
“No doubt, sonny, no doubt,” replied a soldier with a hearty laugh. “You see, if a pig comes up and grunts at the flag, we have a right to kill him for the insult offered. Probably your pigs were guilty of this heinous crime, and were sacrificed for the good of the country.”
“Do yo-uns mean the Yanks hev ’em?” asked Calhoun.
“Undoubtedly, sonny. What are you going to do about it?”
“Goin’ to tell dad,” replied Calhoun, as he limped off, for he pretended to be lame.