tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">227

XV.   A FIGHT WITH GUERRILLAS 238 XVI.   FORT DONELSON 253 XVII.   AFTER THE BATTLE 267 XVIII.   "WE BOTH MUST DIE" 279 XIX.   SHILOH 294 XX.   "MY SON! MY SON!" 311

---

ILLUSTRATIONS.

---

As lightly as a Bird he cleared the Fence	Frontispiece.
He plunged forward, and passed the Goal half-a-length ahead	Facing page	22
He dealt the Ruffian such a Blow that he fell like a log		54
As quick as a flash Fred snatched a Revolver from the holster		78
"You here!" gasped the Major, and he made a grab for his collar		130
"Fire! Fire!" thundered a Colonel who had just sprung out of the foremost car		142
Fred raised his Head, "Ferror! Ferror!" he cried		186
The Federals were among them, shooting, sabering, riding them down		202
The Battle now raged along the entire line with great fury		236
Fred drew his Revolver, and the Guerrilla dropped from his horse		246
"Why, Boys, they are trying to get away; we mustn't let them"		266
"For God's Sake, don't shoot! I promise"		290
Springing from his horse, he bent over the death-like form		316

---

GENERAL NELSON'S SCOUT.

---

CHAPTER I. THE QUARREL AND THE OATH.

A short distance from Danville, Kentucky, on the afternoon of July 21, 1861, two boys might have been seen seated by the roadside under the branches of a wide-spreading oak. Near by, tethered to the stout rail fence which ran along the side of the road, were two spirited thoroughbred horses that champed their bits and restlessly stamped their feet, unnoticed by their young owners, who seemed to be engaged in a heated discussion.

The two boys were nearly the same age and size, and were cousins. Calhoun Pennington, who was the more excited of the two, was very dark, and his black hair, which he wore long, was flung back from a broad and handsome forehead. His countenance was flushed with anger, and his eyes fairly blazed with suppressed wrath.

His companion, Frederic Shackelford, was not quite as large as Calhoun, but his frame was more closely knit, and if it came to a trial of strength between the two, it would take no prophet to tell which would prove master.

Frederic was as fair as his cousin was dark. His eyes were deep blue, and his hair had a decided tinge of red. The firm set lips showed that he was not only a boy of character, but of decided will. While his tones expressed earnestness and deep feeling, his countenance did not betray the excitement under which his cousin labored. Young as Frederic was, he had learned the valuable lesson of self-control.

So earnest did the discussion between the two boys become, that Calhoun Pennington sprang to his feet, and raising his clenched hand, exclaimed in passionate tones: "Do you mean to say that Kentucky is so sunk in cowardice that she will not enforce her proclamation of neutrality? Then I blush I am a Kentuckian."

"I mean to say," calmly replied Frederic, "that it will be impossible for Kentucky to enforce her ideas of neutrality. Kentuckians are no cowards, that you know, Calhoun; but it is not a question of courage. The passions aroused are too strong to be controlled. The North and the South are too thoroughly in earnest; the love of the Union on one side, the love of the rights of the States on the other, is too sincere. We could not remain neutral, if we wished. As well try to control the beating of our hearts, as our sympathies. We are either for the old flag, or against it."

"I deny it," hotly cried Calhoun; "you fellows who are always preaching about the old flag are not the only ones who love the country. It is we who are trying to keep it from becoming an instrument of oppression, of coercion, who really love the old flag. But I know what is the matter with you. Owing to the teachings of that Yankee mother of yours, you are with the Abolitionists, nigger-stealers, the mud-sills of