From one point of view, the invasion of Kentucky by the Confederates had been a magnificent success. A loss of at least twenty thousand had been inflicted on the Federal armies, while the loss of the Confederate army had not been over one-third of that number. In addition to that, the immense stores gathered and taken South were of inestimable value to the army. But in the chagrin and disappointment over Bragg’s retreat these things were lost sight of and the Confederate general was most bitterly denounced. Calhoun went wild when he heard that the state was to be given up without a decisive battle, that all that had been gained was to go for naught; and his feelings were shared by all Morgan’s men. “It won’t prevent us from visiting the state once in a while,” said Morgan, with a grim smile. As for Judge Pennington, he was so disgusted that although his whole heart was with the South, he gave up all idea of forming a state government loyal to the Confederacy, and remained quiet during the rest of the war. “The armies will have to settle it,” he would say; “we can do nothing here.” One of the first things that Calhoun did after he reached Danville was to see Jennie Freeman and thank her for her timely warning. “It was kind of you, Jennie,” he said, “for I know that you hate the cause for which I am fighting.” “My conscience has hurt me awfully ever since,” replied Jennie, with a toss of her head; “and then I believe you told me an awful fib.” “Why, how is that, Jennie?” asked Calhoun. “You worked on my sympathy, and said if you were caught you would be hanged. The Union forces don’t hang prisoners. They would only have shut you up, and that is what you deserve.” “But, Jennie, I was in disguise; they would have hanged me as a spy.” “Don’t believe it, but I sometimes think half of you Rebels ought to be hanged.” “Oh, Jennie, Jennie! what a bloodthirsty creature you have grown! But where is your father?” “Thank the Lord, where the old flag yet floats—in Louisville. He will stay there until that rag comes down,” and she pointed to the Confederate flag floating over the courthouse. “Poor girl, never to see her father again,” exclaimed Calhoun, in tones of compassion. “What do you mean?” she asked, turning pale. A sudden fear had come over her; had anything befallen her father? Calhoun saw her mistake. Laughing, he said, “I only meant that flag would never come down.” “Is that all?” she replied, saucily; “you all will be scurrying south like so many rabbits in less than a week.” “Give us ten days.” “No, not an hour more than a week. And mind, if you get caught, you needn’t call on me for help.” “Well, Jennie, don’t let’s quarrel. Perhaps I can return the favor you did me, by helping you some day.”