“When the war broke out, we never believed hit would reach us. Thar mout be trouble in Louisville and Cincinnati--some even thought hit likely that thar would be fouten' in Lexington--but way up in the mountings we'd be peaceable an' safe allers. Our young men formed theirselves inter a company o' Home Gyards, an' elected my husband their Capting. Kunnel Pennington gathered together 'bout a hundred o' the poorest, orneriest shakes on the headwaters, an' tuck them off ter jine Sidney Johnson, an' drive the Yankees 'way from Louisville. Everybody said hit wuz the best riddance o' bad rubbish the country 'd ever knowed, and when they wuz gone our chances fur peace seemed better'n ever. “All the flurry made by ther gwine 'way hed died down, an' ez we heered nothin' from 'em, or the war, people's minds got quiet ag'in, an' they sot 'bout hurryin' up their Spring work. “One bright, sweet mornin' in May, I wuz at my work in the yard with Fortner--thet wuz my son's name--fixin' up the kittles ter dye some yarn fur a coat fur him. Husband 'd went ter the other side o' the hill, whar the new terbacker ground wuz, ter cut out some trees that shaded the plants. The skies wuz ez bright an' fa'r ez the good Lord ever made 'em. I could heah the ringin' o' David's ax, ez he chopped away, an'h hit seemed ter be sayin' ter me cheefully all the time: 'Heah I am--hard at work.' The smoke from some brush-piles that he'd sot afire riz up slowly an' gently, fur thar wuz no wind a-stirring. The birds sung gayly 'bout their work o' nest-buildin', an' I couldn't help singin' about mine. I left the kittles fur a minnit ter run down the gyardin walk, ter see how my bed o' pinks wuz comin' out, an' I sung ez I run. “Jest then a passel o' men come stringin' up the road ter the bars. They looked like some o' them that Kunnel Pennington tuck 'way with him, but they rid better critters then any o' them ever hed, an' they were dressed in a sorter soljer-cloze, an' all o' 'em toted guns. “Something sent a chill ter my very heart the moment I laid eyes on 'em. Hit a'most stopped beatin' when I see Kunnel Bill Pennington a little ways behind 'em, with a feather in his hat, an' sword an' pistols in his belt. When they waited at the bars fur him ter come up, I knowed instantly what they were arter. “'Fortner,' I said ter my son, tryin' ter speak ez low ez possible; 'Fortner, honey, slip back through the bushes ez quick ez the Lord'll let ye, an tell yer daddy that Bill Pennington an' his gang air heah arter him. Sneak away, but when ye air out o' sight, run fur yer life, honey.' “He turned ter go, but tat that minnit Bill Pennington shouted out: “'Stop thar! Don't ye send thet boy away! Ef he moves a step, I'll put a bullet through his brain!' Fortner would've run in spite o' him, but I wuz so skeered for him thet I jumped ter his side an' ketched his arm. “'Keep quiet, honey,' I said. 'Likely they won't find yer daddy at all.'