Instead of hitting the officer, the ball struck the horse fairly in the head, and the animal fell dead. Leaving the officer struggling to extricate himself from his fallen horse, Calhoun scrambled over a fence, and scurried across a small field, beyond which was a wood. A scattering volley was fired by the foremost of the pursuers, but it did no harm, and Calhoun was soon across the field. Mounting the fence on the other side, he stood on the top rail, and turning around, he uttered a shout of defiance, then jumping down, disappeared in the wood. The foremost of the Federals, a tall, lanky sergeant named Latham, galloped to the side of his commander, who was still struggling to extricate himself from his fallen horse. Springing from his saddle, he helped him to his feet, and anxiously inquired, “Are you hurt, Lieutenant?” “The Rebel, the Rebel, where is he? Did you get him?” asked the Lieutenant. “Get him!” drawled the Sergeant, “I think not. He got across that field as if Old Nick was after him. But once across he had the cheek to stand on the fence and crow like a young rooster. I took a crack at him, but missed.” “Why didn’t you pursue him?” demanded the officer, fiercely. “What! in those woods? Might as well look for a needle in a haymow. But are you hurt, Lieutenant?” “My leg is sprained,” he groaned; “but the worst of it is, Jupiter is dead. Curse that Rebel! how I wish I had him! I would make him pay dearly for that horse.” “Here is the Rebel’s horse. I caught him!” exclaimed one of the men, leading up Calhoun’s horse, which he had captured. “He looks like a mighty fine horse, only he seems a little lame from his fall.” “That is a fine horse,” said Latham, looking him over, “but he has been rode mighty hard. Wonder who that feller can be. I see no signs of any other Reb. He must have been alone. Say, he was a Jim-dandy whoever he was. I thought you had him sure, Lieutenant.” “So did I,” answered the Lieutenant, with an oath. “When his horse threw him I had no idea he would try to get away, and ordered him to surrender. But quick as a flash he jerked a revolver from his belt, and fired.” “Better be thankful he hit the horse instead of you,” said the Sergeant. For answer the Lieutenant limped to a stone, and sitting down, said: “Examine that roll behind the saddle of the horse. Perhaps we can find out who the fellow was.” Sergeant Latham took the roll, which was securely strapped behind Calhoun’s saddle, and began to unroll it as carefully as if he suspected it might be loaded. “A fine rubber and a good woollen blanket,” remarked the Sergeant. “Looks mighty like those goods once belonged to our good Uncle Samuel. Bet your life, they are a part of the plunder from Shiloh. Ah! here is a bundle of letters.” “Give them to me,” said the Lieutenant. The Sergeant handed them over, and the officer hastily glanced over them, reading the superscriptions.