“Father,” said the girl, “go and meet Lieutenant Haines, use him nicely. Invite him to dinner.” Mr. Osborne looked at his daughter in surprise. “I never expected to see the time you would want me to invite a Yankee officer to dinner,” he said. “Never mind now, I will explain afterwards. Go quick, for I see he is throwing a guard around the house,” was her answer. Mr. Osborne went, wondering what had come over his daughter, and was entirely successful in carrying out her scheme, although it was unknown to him. Before his return, Mrs. Osborne came downstairs, her face denoting her anxiety. “Mother,” said the girl, “do not let father know we have any one concealed. It will enable him to say truly he knows of no Confederate around. And, mother, I have told him to invite the Federal commander—it’s that odious Lieutenant Haines—to dinner. Be nice to him. Use him like a welcome, honored guest. We must disarm all suspicion, and keep them from searching the house, if possible.” We have seen how well her plan worked, and how completely Lieutenant Haines was thrown off his guard. Little did he think that while he was enjoying his dinner downstairs, the Confederate officer who had escaped him was feasting like a king upstairs. It soon became evident to Calhoun that there was no danger of the house being searched, and from a window he observed all that was passing without. When he saw the troop ride away, and his own horse led up to the house for the Federal commander, that spirit of recklessness for which he was noted came over him, and without thinking of what the effect might be on those who had, at great risk, so kindly befriended him, he resolved to try to capture his own. With satisfaction he saw the last Yankee depart, leaving the commander behind. “Now is my time!” he exclaimed, exultingly, and looking to see that his revolver was in perfect condition, he crept softly downstairs, and as has been noted, was perfectly successful. So sudden was his appearance, so swift were his movements, that the little company could only gaze after him in astonishment until he had disappeared. For a few minutes Calhoun was hilarious over the success of his bold dash; then came to him the thought that he had cruelly wronged the Osbornes in what he had done. He suddenly checked his horse, and then turned as if he would ride back, hesitated, then turned once more, and rode on his way, but more slowly. “It is too late now,” he sighed, to himself, “to undo the wrong I may have done. To think I may have brought trouble on the head of that glorious girl, who even would give me her own horse! It’s the meanest trick you ever did, Calhoun Pennington, and it would serve you right if the Yankees captured you.”