“You can both go,” replied the sergeant; “I guess I can stop any one who attempts to cross the river while you are away. But don’t be gone long.” The men quickly availed themselves of the opportunity, and mounting their horses rode away. The sergeant stretched himself on the ground, and lazily watched the river. Now was Calhoun’s time. He had secured a good revolver when he left Nashville. This he had kept dry when he swam the river by wrapping it in his outside clothing, which he had made into a bundle, and carried over on his head. Taking the revolver in his hand, ready for instant use, he cautiously crept up on the sergeant. [Illustration: HE CAUTIOUSLY CREPT UP ON THE SERGEANT.] That individual leaped to his feet as if he had springs when he heard the stern command, “Surrender!” He reached for his weapon, but suddenly stopped when he saw he was looking into the muzzle of a revolver. “Hands up! Be quick about it!” The hands of the sergeant slowly went above his head. “Pardon me, but I will relieve you of this,” said Calhoun, as he took a revolver from the belt of his prisoner, and tossed it into the river. Up to this time the sergeant had not said a word, but now he exclaimed, with the utmost disgust, “How thundering careless of me! Sergeant Latham, you are no good; you ought to be reduced to the ranks.” “Oh! don’t feel too bad about it; better men than you have been caught napping,” replied Calhoun, consolingly. “But no bigger fool. To be gobbled in like this, and by a blamed skulking citizen, too. Now, if—” “Rest your mind there, if it will make you feel any better,” broke in Calhoun, “I am no civilian, I am Lieutenant Calhoun Pennington of Morgan’s command.” “You don’t say,” replied the sergeant, apparently much relieved. “Lieutenant, allow me to introduce myself. I am Sergeant Silas Latham. We have had the pleasure of meeting before.” “Where?” asked Calhoun, in surprise. “Down in Tennessee, when you got away with Lieutenant Haines’s horse so slick.” Calhoun’s face darkened. “Did you have anything to do with the persecution of the Osbornes?” he asked, threateningly. “Not I. That was the blamedest, meanest trick I ever knew Haines to do. But he was dead gone on the girl. I half believe he would have turned Reb if he could have got her.” “I saw Haines the other day,” remarked Calhoun. “Where?” asked the Sergeant. “In Nashville. I had the pleasure of knocking him down.” The Sergeant chuckled. “Served him right. He threatened to have me reduced to the ranks because I told him he ought to be ashamed of himself, the way he persecuted that girl.” “Are you in his company now?” “No; he is the captain of another company. Glad of it.” “Sergeant Latham, I would like to continue this conversation, but time presses. Give me your parole, and I will be going.”