Byron Dunn - General Nelson's Scout

For a moment the men looked into each other's faces without a word; then there came a storm of indignation.

"The cowardly, traitorous wretch!" was the exclamation heard on all sides. "Forewarned is forearmed," said Mr. Spear, grimly. "Gentlemen, I think we shall be fully prepared for Mr. Tompkins and his 'Knights of the Golden Circle,' What say you?"

"That we will!" was the cry of all. "Mr. Tompkins will get a warm reception."

Then they crowded around Fred and nearly shook his hand off. But he sat silent, and at last looking up with burning cheeks, stammered: "But – but, I lied – to Conway."

He said this so earnestly, and looked so dejected that the company at first did not know what to say; then they all burst out laughing.

This hurt Fred worse than a reprimand, and the tears came into his eyes. Mr. Spear seeing how it was, at once commanded attention, and said: "Gentlemen, our levity is ill-advised. This boy is as truthful as he is brave. As he looks at it, he has been guilty of an untruth." Then turning to Fred, he took him gently by the hand, and said: "Your action is but a fitting testimonial to your truthful nature. But be comforted. What you have done, instead of being wrong, was an act of the greatest heroism, and you deserve and will receive the thanks of every Union man."

"Do you think so?" asked Fred, faintly.

"I know so, and not only this, but your action may save hundreds of lives and our city from destruction. Let the good that you have done atone for the deception you practiced towards Captain Conway."

Fred felt relieved. Then he was told he must have some rest after his terrible ride and the exciting events of the night. He was ushered into a darkened chamber, and not until after he had lain down, and the excitement under which he had labored began to pass away did he realize how utterly exhausted he was. Tired nature soon asserted itself, and he slept the peaceful sleep of the young.

When Fred awoke, the house was very still. He looked at his watch, and to his surprise found it was after ten o'clock. Hurriedly dressing, he went downstairs, where he met Mrs. Spear, and when he apologized for sleeping so late, she told him she had orders not to awake him, but to let him sleep as long as he would. "But come," she said, "you must be nearly famished," and she led him into the dining-room where a tempting meal was spread.

What puzzled Fred was, that although it was so near midday, the house was darkened and the gas burning. Every shutter was closed tight. Mrs. Spear appeared nervous and excited, and the servants looked as though frightened out of their wits. Although everything was so still in the house, from out-of-doors there arose a confused noise as of the tramping of many feet, the mingling of many voices, and now and then the sound of wild cheering as of an excited mob. Fred looked inquiringly at Mrs. Spear. She smiled sadly and said:

"This promises to be a terrible day for Louisville. But for the forbearance of the Union men, there would have been bloody fighting before this. The news of the Confederate victory in Virginia has crazed the rebel element. It is thought an effort will be made to overthrow the city government. If there is, there will be bloody work, for the Union element is prepared. Companies of men are in readiness all over the city to spring to arms at a moment's notice. I fear for my husband, I fear for all of our lives, for Mr. Spear is a marked Union man." She stopped, choked back a sob, and drawing herself proudly up, continued with flashing eyes: "But Louisville will be saved, if husband, house and everything go."

Of such metal were the loyal women of Kentucky. Fred hastily swallowed a cup of coffee, ate enough to appease his hunger, and announced his intention of going out on the street.

"You must not," said Mrs. Spear; "my husband left special word for you to remain indoors. There is danger out."

Fred smiled. "That is just the reason I shall go out," he answered, quietly.

"Then, if you must go," replied Mrs. Spear, "here is a weapon," and she handed him a superb revolver. "You may need it, but do not use it except to protect your own life, or the life of a Union man. This is the order given to all loyal citizens. Do nothing to provoke a quarrel; keep silent even if insulted, but if a conflict comes, protect yourself."

Fred thanked her, promised to be careful, and went forth into the city. Through the principal streets, vast throngs were sweeping, acting as if bereft of reason. Everywhere the Confederate flag was waving. Union flags were being trailed in the dust and stamped in the mire. Cries for Jeff Davis, and groans for Lincoln were heard on every hand.

As time went on, the mob grew more violent. "Down with the Yankees!" "Kill the nigger-stealers!" "Kentucky is no abolition State!" "Death to the Lincoln hirelings!" were the cries which echoed and re-echoed through the streets. Soon stories of outrages, of private grounds being entered and flags torn down, of brutal beatings began to be heard. The Unionists began to gather in knots and resent insult. Yet each side seemed to dread the beginning of a real conflict.

Chief among those exciting the people was Tompkins, the head of the "Knights of the Golden Circle." He raged through the streets, defying all authority. Fred looked on the growing excitement with the blood swiftly coursing through his veins. His eyes blazed with fury when he saw the stars and stripes trailed in the dust of the street. He trembled with suppressed rage when he saw Union men reviled, insulted.

"It is true," he said, bitterly, to himself, "that Union men are cowards, miserable cowards, or they would resent these insults." But Fred was mistaken; braver men never lived than the Union men of Louisville, who endured the taunts and insults of that day, rather than provoke a conflict, the end of which no man could tell.

After a time Fred found himself on a residence street where there was a break in the mob, and the street was comparatively quiet. During this quiet a young lady came out of a house, and hurriedly passed down the street. Suddenly a fragment of the mob drifted through the street, and she was caught in the vortex. On her bosom was pinned a small Union flag. A burly ruffian in the mob espied it, and rushing up to her, shouted: "Off with that dirty rag, you she-Lincolnite!"

"Never," she exclaimed, with a pale face but flashing eye.

"Then I will take it," he exclaimed, with a coarse oath, and snatched at the flag so roughly as to tear her dress, exposing her pure white bosom to the gaze of the brutal mob.

There was a howl of delight, and the wretch made bolder, cried: "Now for a kiss, my beauty," and attempted to catch her in his smutty arms. But the avenger was at hand. Fred had seen the outrage, and picking up a brick that happened to lie loose on the pavement, he sprang forward and dealt the ruffian such a blow on the side of the head that he fell like a log, striking the pavement with such force that the blood gushed from his nose and mouth.

"Kill the young devil of a Lincolnite!" was the cry, and the crowd surged towards Fred. But those in advance drew back, for they looked into the muzzle of a revolver held by a hand that did not tremble, and gazed into young eyes that did not waver.

"The first man that attempts to touch her or me, dies," said Fred, in a clear, firm voice. The mob shrank back; then a fierce cry arose of "Kill him! kill him!"

"Take the young lady to a place of safety," said a low voice by Fred's side; then to the mob, "Back! back! or come on at your peril."

Fred looked, and by his side stood a stalwart policeman, a glistening revolver in his hand. Near him stood other determined men, ready to assist.

"Come," said Fred, taking the young lady's arm, and the two quickly made their way out of the mob, which, balked of its prey, howled in futile rage.