Night came, and Calhoun was introduced to the mail-carrier who was to be his guide. He was a thin, wiry man, named Givens. In age, Calhoun put him down at about forty. The few days during which Calhoun was with Givens gave him a very high opinion of the guide’s bravery and sagacity. Givens related many of his hairbreadth escapes during their journey, and seemed to treat them as great jokes. During the entire journey through Tennessee and Kentucky, Givens kept to unfrequented roads, and in the darkest night rode as one entirely familiar with the way. At every place they stopped, they seemed to be expected. A man would take their horses, and in the evening when they started, they would find fresh horses provided. Givens informed Calhoun that these stations were a night ride apart, and that at each a relay of horses was kept concealed in the woods. “I now understand,” said Calhoun, “what an underground railroad means. If the Abolitionists had as complete a one as you, no wonder they were so successful in getting away with our slaves.” Givens chuckled as he answered: “They did, I know all about it; was in the business myself.” “You?” asked Calhoun, in surprise, and he instinctively recoiled from the man. “A man has to do something for a living,” growled Givens; “I got so much for each nigger I ran off.” He then refused to discuss the subject further. One night as they were travelling at a rapid gait, a low, tremulous whistle came from the side of the road. Givens reined in his horse so quickly that he fell back on his haunches. He answered the whistle in the same low, tremulous note. A man stepped from the bushes into the road, and spoke a few words to Givens in a low tone. Givens turned to Calhoun and said: “Yanks ahead. We will have to go round them.” Under the guidance of the man they turned into a path through the woods. The way was rough, and Givens swore roundly because they were losing time. A good-sized stream was reached, which they had to swim. They emerged from it wet and out of humor, Givens cursing the Yankees to his heart’s content. He explained that it eased his mind. When the road was reached their guide bade them good-bye, and disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared. Givens and Calhoun now urged their horses to their utmost speed, in order to reach their next stopping-place by daylight. But do the best they could, the sun was an hour high before they reached their haven of rest. Luckily they met with no one, and they felt safe. “One more night and we shall reach the Ohio,” said Givens, when they dismounted after a long, wearisome night ride. But it was destined that they should not reach the Ohio the next night, for they had not ridden more than five miles after they had started before they were brought up with the sharp command: “Halt! Who comes there?” “Citizens without the countersign,” answered Givens without a moment’s hesitation, and then to Calhoun, “Wheel and run for your life.”