Calhoun returned with Mr. Ormsby, as he wished to enter Danville to visit his parents. Disguised as a country boy with produce to sell, he had no trouble in passing the pickets into town. With a basket of eggs on his arm, he knocked at the back door of his father’s residence. It was opened by Chloe, the cook. “Want eny good fresh eggs?” asked Calhoun. “No; go way wid ye, yo’ po’ white trash,” snapped the old negro woman, as she attempted to shut the door in his face. “Chloe!” The dish which she held in her hand went clattering to the floor. “Fo’ de land’s sake!” she cried, “if it isn’t Massa Calhoun. De Lawd bress yo’, chile! De Lawd bress you!” And she seized him and fairly dragged him into the house. “Hush, Chloe, not so loud. Don’t tell father I am here yet. And, Chloe, don’t whisper I am here to a soul. If the Yankees found out I was here, they might hang me.” “Oh, Lawd! Oh, Lawd! hang youn’ Massa?” she cried. “Ole Chloe tell no one.” “That’s right, Aunt Chloe. Now bake those biscuits I see you are making, in a hurry. And make my favorite pie. I want to eat one more meal of your cooking. No one can cook like Aunt Chloe.” “Yo’ shell hev a meal fit fo’ de king!” cried the old negress, her face all aglow. “You must hurry, Chloe, for I can’t stay long. Now I will go and surprise father.” And surprise him he did. The old Judge could hardly believe the seeming country boy was his son. “Where in the world did you come from?” he asked. “From Corinth,” answered Calhoun. “I am now back to recruit for Morgan.” “So you have joined Morgan, have you?” “Yes. Now that Governor Johnson is killed, I know of no service I would like as well as to ride with Morgan.” “You could have come home, my son.” “Father! what do you mean? Come home while the South is bleeding at every pore? Come home like a craven while the contest is yet undecided?” “I am wrong, my son; but it is so hard for you, my only child, to be in the army. Oh! that dreadful battle of Shiloh! The agony, the sleepless nights it has caused me! Thank God you are yet safe.” “Yes, father, and I trust that the hand of a kind Providence will still protect me. But here is a letter from Morgan.” The Judge adjusted his spectacles, and read the letter with much interest. “My son,” he said, after he had finished it, “it is well you were not captured with such letters on your person. It might have cost you your life. Even now I tremble for your safety. Does any one know you are in Danville?” “Only Aunt Chloe, and she is as true as steel.” “Yet there is danger. I know the house is under the closest surveillance. The Federal authorities know I am an ardent friend of the South, and they watch me continually. Morgan says in his letter that he hopes it will not be long before he will be in Kentucky.”