“It is well that this affair resulted as it did. If either one of the principals had fallen, the other would have been summarily dealt with. Both of you,” looking at Conway and Calhoun, “were to blame. Lieutenant Pennington should not have struck the blow: no gentleman will tamely submit to the indignity of a blow. As for you, Captain Conway, I am surprised that you, one of my officers, should insult a lady. If this offence is ever repeated, intoxication will be no plea in its extenuation. Heretofore it has been our proud boast that where Morgan’s men are there any lady, be she for North or South, is as safe as in her own home. Let us see that it will always be so.” The men who heard burst into a wild cheer. Each of them was a knight to uphold the honor of woman. As Captain Conway listened to the reprimand, his red face became redder. His heart was full of anger, but he was diplomat enough to listen with becoming humility. To his fellow-officers his plea was intoxication, and in the stirring times which followed, his offence was forgotten. Scouts came dashing into the city with the startling intelligence that a large Federal force was advancing on the place. It was not long before a battle was being waged through the streets. Before an overwhelming force of infantry Morgan had to fall back. Bragg was in full retreat, and to Morgan fell the lot of guarding the rear. As they were falling back from Camp Dick Robinson, Calhoun met a Major Hockoday, who to him was the bearer of sad news. The Major said that that morning his men pursued a Federal scout who had ventured inside their lines. In his effort to escape he had fallen over the cliff of Dick River, and been killed. “And I am sorry to say,” added the Major, “that that scout was your cousin, Captain Fred Shackelford.” “Are you sure?” asked Calhoun, in a trembling voice. “Perfectly sure. I knew him too well to be mistaken. For the sake of his father, I sent word to the overseer of the General’s plantation so that the body could be found, and given Christian burial.” “Thank you,” replied Calhoun, as he turned away with swimming eyes. All his old love for his cousin had returned. There was little heart in Calhoun for battle that day. It was weeks before he learned that Fred was not dead. CHAPTER X. HARTSVILLE. WHEN Bragg evacuated Kentucky his weary army found rest at Murfreesboro. This little city is thirty-two miles southeast of Nashville, situated on the railroad leading from Nashville to Chattanooga. It had already become famous by the capture of a Federal brigade there in August, by General N. B. Forrest, and was destined to become the theatre of one of the greatest battles of the war.