They both turned and clapped spurs to their horses, but not before the sentinel had fired. Calhoun heard a sharp exclamation of pain, and turning his head saw Givens tumble from his horse. He had carried his last mail. There was no time to halt, for Calhoun heard the rapid hoof-beats of horses in pursuit. Coming to a cross-road, he sprang from his horse and struck him a vicious blow which sent him galloping wildly down the road. In a moment a squad of Federal cavalry passed in swift pursuit. Calhoun breathed freer after the trampling of their horses died away in the distance. But he was alone, without a horse, and in a strange country. He was now thankful that Forrest had not sent his credentials with Givens. Calhoun made his way slowly on foot, turning into a road which led in the direction which he wished to go. All through the night he plodded, and when morning came he found he was close to a large plantation. He determined to make himself known. Placing his revolver in his bosom, where he could get it in a moment, he boldly went up to the house. Fortunately he met the owner of the plantation, who saluted him with, “Heah, git off of my place, or I will set the dogs on you. I want no tramps around heah.” Calhoun glanced at himself, and did not wonder he had been mistaken for a disreputable character. His night’s walk had made sad havoc with the looks of his clothes. The road was muddy, and he had fallen down several times. Rather in desperation than thinking it would do any good, he made the sign of recognition of the Knights of the Golden Circle. To his surprise it was answered. “Who are you? and why do you come in such a plight?” asked the gentleman. Calhoun’s story was soon told. “And you are one of Morgan’s men,” said the gentleman, whose name was Cressey. “I have a son with Morgan,” and he gave his name. “One of my scouts,” replied Calhoun, delighted. Calhoun had indeed found a friend, and a place of refuge. The next night, with a good horse and guide, Calhoun was taken to a house but a short distance from the river. The farmer who owned the house was to take a load of produce into Mount Vernon that day. Calhoun could easily go with him without exciting suspicion. This was done, and before noon Calhoun, free and unsuspected, was walking the streets of Mount Vernon. Shortly after dinner he inquired for the office of Judge Worley, and was shown the most pretentious law office in the little city. Entering, he inquired for the Judge, and was told that he was in his private office. “Tell him that a gentleman wishes to see him on very important business,” said Calhoun. A clerk bade him be seated, and disappeared. He returned in a moment and said the Judge would see him at once.