unity came sooner than he expected. The next day Jennie ventured
out to visit a sick friend. On her return she had to pass a couple of
Confederate officers, one of whom was intoxicated. The other appeared to
be reasoning with him, and trying to get him to go to his quarters.

As Jennie was hurrying past them, the one who was intoxicated staggered
toward her, and leering at her, exclaimed, "How--how do, pretty one? Give
me a--a kiss!"

Jennie turned to flee, but he caught her roughly by the arm. Just as he
did so, he was struck a terrific blow in the face, which sent him rolling
in the gutter.

"Take my arm, Jennie," said Calhoun, for it was he who struck the blow, "I
will see you safe home."

The trembling girl took his arm, saying: "Oh, Calhoun, how glad I am you
came! How can I thank you enough! Do you know that dreadful man?"

"Yes, I am sorry to say he is a captain in Morgan's command. His name is
Conway. We left him back in Tennessee wounded. But he was able to follow
Bragg's army, and he joined us only yesterday. By the way, it was Fred
Shackelford who shot him. He shot him when he got Prince back. Conway was
riding Blenheim."

"Oh, Fred told me all about that. Wasn't that just splendid in him,
getting his horse back!"

"Where is Fred now?" asked Calhoun.

"I don't know. Did you know General Nelson was shot?"

"Shot? Nelson shot?" cried Calhoun. "Where? How?"

Jennie had to tell him what little she knew about it. All that she had
heard had come from Confederate sources.

"Well, Jennie, here you are at home. I feel ashamed. It is the first time
I ever knew one of Morgan's men to insult a woman."

"I hope that miserable Conway will give you no trouble," said Jennie, as
they parted.

"No fears on that score," lightly replied Calhoun, as he bade her
good-bye.

But Calhoun well knew there would be trouble. No Kentucky officer would
forgive a blow, no matter what the provocation was under which it was
given.

The blow which Conway received had the effect of sobering him, but he
presented a pitiable sight. His face was covered with blood, and one eye
was nearly closed. When he knew it was Calhoun that had struck him, his
rage was fearful. Nothing but blood would wipe out the insult. For a
Kentucky gentleman not to resent a blow meant disgrace and dishonor; he
would be looked upon as a contemptible coward. But Conway was no coward.
He knew he was in fault, but that would not wipe out the disgrace of the