"Haven't the countersign," said Will, dropping from his horse, "but I have important information for General Forrest. Take me to him at once."
"Are you a Confederate soldier?"
"Not exactly. But I have some valuable news about the Yanks, I reckon. Better let me see the general."
"Thus far," he added to himself, "I have played the part. The combination of 'Yank' and 'I reckon' ought to establish me as a promising candidate for Confederate honors."
His story was not only plausible, but plainly and fairly told; but caution is a child of war, and the sentinel knew his business. The pseudo-Confederate was disarmed as a necessary preliminary, and marched between two guards to headquarters, many curious eyes (the camp being now astir) following the trio.
When Forrest heard the report, he ordered the prisoner brought before him. One glance at the general's handsome but harsh face, and the young man steeled his nerves for the encounter. There was no mercy in those cold, piercing eyes. This first duel of wits was the one to be most dreaded. Unless confidence were established, his after work must be done at a disadvantage.
The general's penetrating gaze searched the young face before him for several seconds.
"Well, sir," said he, "what do you want with me?"
Yankee-like, the reply was another question:
"You sent a man named Nat Golden into the Union lines, did you not, sir?"