“By gum, I won’t do it!” exclaimed Latham, with energy. “If you want to take me prisoner, take me. But do you think I am going sneaking back to camp with the story that I let one Johnny gobble me? No, sir, not by a jugful!” “Latham, you are a character. Can you swim?” “Never learned when a boy.” “Will your horse carry double?” asked Calhoun. “No, he is a poor swimmer, he would drown us both.” “Latham, I am afraid I shall have to shoot you. I don’t see any other way to get rid of you.” Latham thought a moment, and said: “Let me ride the horse across and you swim.” “A brilliant idea, declined with thanks.” Latham scratched his head as if for an idea. “Perhaps I can hang on by the horse’s tail,” he remarked, hesitatingly. “That’s better. It’s either a parole, the tail, or death. Which shall it be?” “I will take the tail.” “All right; but you must give me your word of honor that you will hang on.” “Like grim death,” answered Latham. “Come, then, I have fooled away too much time already.” Marching his prisoner up to where his horse was tethered, Calhoun took Latham’s sword and carbine which hung to the saddle and pitched them into the river after the revolver. Mounting the horse, Calhoun said, “Now, no fooling. The slightest attempt on your part to escape, and I shall shoot you without compunction of conscience.” “I am not fool enough to run when there is a revolver at my head,” growled Latham. “Nevertheless you will bear watching. I am of the opinion you are a slippery customer. You just walk by my side here until we reach deep water.” They entered the river. Latham wading quietly by the side of the horse, until the water became so deep the horse began to plunge. “Now, grab his tail,” commanded Calhoun, and he watched Latham until he had taken a firm hold of the horse’s tail and was in water beyond his depth. “For the Lord’s sake, keep his head above water,” shouted Latham from behind, as the horse made a fearful plunge. For the next few minutes Calhoun had enough to do without looking to see what had become of Latham. The horse, as the Sergeant had said, proved a poor swimmer. Twice he came near drowning; but at last managed to struggle through. When he got to where the water was shallow enough for the horse to wade, Calhoun looked around to see how Latham had fared. To his surprise he saw that worthy leaning against a tree on the bank from which they had started, and apparently he had been watching the struggles of the horse in the water with a great deal of satisfaction. Calhoun hardly knew whether to laugh or get angry. Riding to the edge of the water, he turned his horse around, and yelled over, “You are a pretty fellow, you are! Like most Yankees, your word of honor is worthless.” “Did just what I said I would!” yelled back Latham. “You did not. You told me you would hold on that horse’s tail like grim death.”