On October 7th General Anderson, at his own request, was relieved of the command of the Department of Kentucky, on account of continued ill-health. The next day General W. T. Sherman, a man destined to fill an important place in the history of the war, was appointed to the position. Both the Federal and the Confederate governments had now thrown aside all pretense of neutrality. Kentucky echoed to the martial tread of armed men.

At Maysville under General Nelson, at Camp Dick Robinson under General Thomas, at Louisville under General Sherman, and at Paducah under General Grant, the Federal government was gathering its hosts; while the Confederate government with its troops occupied Columbus, Bowling Green, Cumberland Gap, and the mountains of eastern Kentucky. General Albert Sydney Johnston, one of the ablest of the Confederate generals, was in supreme command, with headquarters at Bowling Green.

General Zollicoffer marched from Cumberland Gap early in the month, and assumed offensive operations.

When General Sherman took command, Fred was sent by General Thomas to Louisville with dispatches. General Sherman had heard of some of the exploits of the young messenger, and he was received very kindly. Sherman, at that time, was in the prime of life. Straight as an arrow, of commanding presence, he was every inch a soldier. He was quick and impulsive in his actions, and to Fred seemed to be a bundle of nerves. In conversation he was open and frank and expressed his opinion freely, in this resembling General Nelson. But the rough, overbearing nature of Nelson he entirely lacked. He was one of the most courteous of men.

He would have Fred tell of some of his exploits, and when he gave an account of his first journey to Louisville, and his adventure with Captain Conway, the general was greatly pleased. Fred's account of how he discovered the details of the plot at Lexington was received with astonishment, and he was highly complimented. But the climax came when he told of how he had thrown the train from the track, and thus brought Buckner's intended surprise to naught. The general jumped up, grasped Fred's hand, and exclaimed:

"That, young man, calls for a commission, if I can get you one, and I think I can."

"General," replied Fred, "I thank you very much, but I do not wish a commission. I am now comparatively free. It is true, I am hired privately by General Nelson, and if I understand rightly I am getting the pay of a lieutenant; but I am not bound by oath to serve any length of time, neither could I have accomplished what I have if I had been a regular enlisted soldier."

"You are right," said the general. "But remember, if you are ever in need of any favor, do not hesitate to call on me."

This Fred readily promised, and left the general, highly elated over the interview.

Before leaving Louisville, Fred did not forget to call on the Vaughns. He found Miss Mabel well, and he thought her more beautiful than ever. A sad, pensive look on her face but added to her loveliness. Only the day before she had bidden her betrothed farewell, and he had marched to the front to help fight the battles of his country. As she hung weeping around his neck, he pointed to a little miniature flag pinned on his breast—it was the same flag that Mabel wore on that day she was beset by the mob—and said:

"Dearest, it shall be worn there as long as my heart beats. Never shall it be touched by a traitorous hand as long as I live. Every time I look upon it, it will be an incentive to prove worthy of the brave girl who wore it on her breast in the face of a brutal mob."

Then with one fond clasp of the hands, one long lingering kiss, he was gone; and to Mabel all the light and joy of the world seemed to go with him.

But the coming of Fred brought new thoughts, and for the time her eyes grew brighter, her cheeks rosier and laugh happier. The bright, brave boy who saved her from the mob was very welcome, and to her he was only a boy, a precious, darling boy.

They made Fred relate his adventures, and one minute Mabel's eyes would sparkle with fun, and the next melt in tenderness. In spite of himself, Fred's heart beat very fast, he hardly knew why. But when he told with trembling voice how he had parted from his father, and how he had been disowned and driven from home, the sympathy of the impulsive girl overcame her, and with eyes swimming in tears, she arose, threw her arms around him, imprinted a kiss on his forehead, and murmured: "Poor boy! poor boy!" Then turning to her mother, she said, "We will adopt him, won't we, mother, and I will have a brother."

Then remembering what she had done, she retired blushing and in confusion to her seat. That kiss finished Fred; it thrilled him through and through. Yet somehow the thought of being a brother to Mabel didn't give him any satisfaction. He knew Mabel looked upon him as only a boy, and the thought made him angry, but the next moment he was ashamed of himself. He took his leave, promising to call the next time he was in the city, and went away with conflicting emotions.

Fred was really suffering from an attack of first love, and didn't know it. It was better for him that he didn't, for it was the sooner forgotten.

On his return to Camp Dick Robinson Fred found that General Thomas had advanced some of his troops toward Cumberland Gap. Colonel Garrard was occupying an exposed position on the Rock Castle Hills, and Fred was sent to him with dispatches. Fred found the little command in considerable doubt over the movements of General Zollicoffer. One hour the rumor would be that he was advancing, and the next hour would bring the story that he was surely retreating. Colonel Garrard feared that he would be attacked with a greatly superior force.

Fred resolved that he would do a little scouting on his own account. Colonel Garrard offered to send a small party with him, but Fred declined the offer, saying that a squad would only attract attention, and if he ran into danger he would trust to the fleetness of his horse to save him.

Riding east, he made a wide detour, and at last came to where he thought he must be near the enemy's lines. In his front was a fine plantation; near by, in the woods, some negroes were chopping. These negroes he resolved to interview. His appearance created great consternation, and some of them dropped their axes, and looked as if about to run.

"Don't be afraid, boys," said Fred, kindly. "I only want to know who lives in yonder house."

"Massa Johnson, sah."

"Is he at home?"

"Not now, sah; he down to Zollicoffer camp."

"Oh, then General Zollicoffer is camped near here?"

"Yes, sah; 'bout two mile down de road."

"Do any of the soldiers ever come this way?" queried Fred.

"Yes, sah; 'bout twenty went up de road not mo' than two hours ago. Den a capin man, he cum to see Missy Alice most ebber day."

"Thank you," said Fred, as he rode away. "I think I will pay a visit to Missy Alice myself."

Riding boldly up to the house, he dismounted. Before entering the house he accosted an old negro who was working in the yard, and slipping a dollar into his hand, said:

"Uncle, if you see any one coming either way, will you cry, 'Massa, your horse is getting away?'"

"Trus' me fo' dat," said the old man, grinning from ear to ear. "I jess make dat hoss jump, and den I yell, 'Massa, hoss gittin' way.'"

"That's it, uncle, you are all right," and Fred turned and went into the house, where he introduced himself as a Mr. Sandford, from Lexington. He had friends in Zollicoffer's army, and had run the gauntlet of the Federal lines to visit them. Could they tell him how far it was to General Zollicoffer's camp.

The ladies received him coldly, but told him the distance. But Fred was not to be repulsed. He was a good talker, and he tried his best. He told them the news of the outside world, and what the Yankees were doing, and how they would soon be driven from the State. This at once endeared him to the ladies, especially the younger, who was a most pronounced little rebel. Miss Alice was a comely girl, somewhere between twenty and twenty-five years of age, and by a little but well directed flattery Fred completely won her confidence. She inquired after some acquaintances in Lexington, and by a happy coincidence Fred knew them, and the conversation became animated.

At length Fred remarked: "I hope it will not be long before General Zollicoffer will advance. We are getting anxious up at Lexington; we want to see the Yankees driven into the Ohio."

"You will not have to wait long," replied the girl. "Captain Conway tells me they are about ready, and will advance on the 20th or 21st——" she stopped suddenly, bit her lip, and looked scared.

In all probability she had told something that Captain Conway had told her to keep secret. Fred did not appear to notice her confusion, and at once said: "Conway, Conway, Captain Conway. Is it Captain P. C. Conway of whom you speak?"

"Yes, sir," replied the girl, brightening up.

"Why, I know him, know him like a book; in fact, we are old friends—special friends, I may say. He would rejoice to find me here," and then he added mentally, "and cut my throat."

"A brilliant soldier, and a brave one, is Captain Conway," continued Fred, "and if he is given an opportunity to distinguish himself, it will not be long before it will be Major or Colonel Conway."

This praise pleased Miss Alice greatly, and she informed Fred that he would soon have the pleasure of meeting his friend; that she expected him every moment.

Fred moved somewhat uneasily in his chair. He had no desire to meet Captain Conway, and he was about to make an excuse of going out to see how his horse was standing, when they were startled by the old negro running toward the house and yelling at the top of his voice: "Massa, massa, yo' hoss is gittin' away."

The sly old fellow had thrown a stone at Prince, and the horse was rearing and plunging.

Fred dashed out of the house; a party of horsemen was coming up the road, in fact, was nearly to the house. It was but the work of a moment for Fred to unhitch his horse and vault into the saddle, but the party was now not more than fifty yards away. At the head rode Captain Conway. They had noticed the horse hitched at the gate, and were coming at full speed to try and surprise the owner. The moment Conway saw Fred he knew him.

"Gods!" he cried, "Fred Shackelford, what luck!" and snatched a pistol from the holster and fired. The ball whistled past Fred's head harmlessly, and he turned in the saddle and returned the fire. It was the first time he had ever shot at a man, and even in the heat of excitement he experienced a queer sensation, a sinking of the heart, as though he were committing a crime.

Fairly and squarely the ball from his revolver struck the horse of Captain Conway in the forehead, and the animal fell dead, the rider rolling in the dust.

Immediately all was excitement. His men stopped the pursuit, and, dismounting, gathered around the captain, thinking he was killed.

But he sprang to his feet, shouting: "A hundred dollars to the one who will take that young devil, dead or alive. Here, Corporal Smith, you have a fleet horse, let me take him," and jumping into the saddle, he was in pursuit, followed by all his men, except Corporal Smith, who stood in the road looking after them.

"What does it mean? What does it mean?" asked the two ladies, who stood on the veranda, wringing their hands, and very much excited.

"Blamed if I know," answered the corporal. "The sight of that young chap seemed to make the captain kinder crazy. The moment he caught sight of him, he called him by name, and banged away at him."

"You say the captain called him by name?"

"Yes."

"Well, he said he knew the captain, and that he was one of his best friends. I can't understand it."

The corporal had no explanation to offer, so went and took a look at the captain's horse. "Bang up shot," he remarked. "Right between the eyes."

In the meantime the pursued and the pursuers had passed out of sight up the road, enveloped in a cloud of dust.

"Remember, boys," shouted Conway, "a hundred dollars to the one who brings him down. Don't attempt to take him alive. Shoot him! shoot him!"

But it was nothing but play for Fred to distance them, and he laughed to think that they expected to catch him. But the laugh suddenly died on his lips; he turned pale, and glanced hurriedly to the right and left. A high rail fence ran on each side of the road. The scouting party of which the negroes spoke was returning. Fred was between the two parties.

Captain Conway saw the other party, and shouted in triumph.

"Now, boys, we have him," and he spurred his horse forward, revolver in hand. There was a look of malignant hatred on his face, and he muttered: "Now, my boy, I will settle scores with you. I shall never take you back to camp. 'Captured a spy, killed while trying to escape.' Ha! ha! how will that sound!"

As for Fred, even in his extremity, his courage or his presence of mind never deserted him. He felt that to be captured by Conway was death, for had not the captain sworn to kill him on sight? His mind was made up; he would wheel and charge the captain's party. He would at least die fighting. Just as he was about to do this, he espied an opening in the fence on the left. As quick as thought he dashed through it, thinking it might afford a chance of escape. Too late he saw his mistake. The field was a perfect cul-de-sac, bounded on all sides by a high rail fence, the only opening the one he had come through.

Through this opening the enemy poured, and when they saw the trap which Fred had entered, their shouts made the welkin ring. They were sure of their prey. Their shouts rang in Fred's ears like the tolling of a funeral bell. So must the bay of hounds sound in the ears of the hunted quarry.

Fred looked at the fence ahead of him. It was built of heavy rails, and full seven feet high. He rode straight for it. Bending over his horse's neck, Fred said: "Prince, it is a question of life or death. Do your best, old fellow; we can but fail."

The horse seemed to understand. He never faltered, never swerved. With distended nostrils, eyes flashing with excitement, and every muscle quivering, he gathered himself for the mighty spring. As lightly as a bird he cleared the fence, staggered as he struck the ground on the other side, then on again like the wind.

Fred turned in his saddle, and uttered a yell of defiance.

"Fire!" shrieked Conway. But the hands of his troopers were unsteady, and the shots went wild. Before his men could dismount and throw down the fence, Fred was beyond pursuit. Captain Conway fairly foamed at the mouth. He raved and swore like a madman.

"It's no use swearing, Captain," said a grizzled lieutenant. "I thought I knew something about horses, but that beat any leap I ever saw. Gad! I would rather have the horse than the boy."

"Howly Virgin! it's the divil's own lape," said an Irishman in the company, and he crossed himself.

The baffled troopers returned crestfallen and cross. Captain Conway was so out of temper that even when the ladies asked him if his fall hurt him, he answered angrily.

"Captain," said Alice, somewhat ruffled by his manner, "what is it between that boy and you? He said he knew you, was in fact a dear friend of yours, but you no sooner saw him than you shot at him; and Corporal Smith says you called him by name, so you did know him."

"Alice," replied the captain, "I do not intend to be rude, but I am all put out. That boy is a spy, a mean, sneaking spy. He should be hanged. It was he that discovered our plot at Lexington."

The girl held up her hands in dismay. "And I told him——" She stopped suddenly.

"Told him what?" demanded Conway.

"Oh! nothing, nothing; only what a good fellow you were."

The captain looked at her sharply, and said: "It is well you gave away no secrets."

Fred made his way back to camp with a thankful heart. He told Colonel Garrard of the intended attack, and then started back for the headquarters of General Thomas. It was a long and hard ride, and it was well in the small hours of the night when he arrived. The general was aroused and the news of the expected attack told. He quietly wrote a couple of orders, and went back to his bed. One order was to General Schoepf to at once march his brigade to the relief of Colonel Garrard at Rock Castle. The other was sent to Colonel Connell at Big Hill to move his regiment to Rock Castle, instead of advancing toward London as ordered.

Both orders were obeyed, and both commands were in position on the 20th. General Zollicoffer made his expected attack on the 21st, and was easily repulsed. The battle was a small one; nothing but a skirmish it would have been called afterwards; but to the soldiers engaged at that time, it looked like a big thing. It greatly encouraged the Federal soldiers, and correspondingly depressed the soldiers of Zollicoffer's army.

Fred got back to Rock Castle in time to see the battle. It was his first sight of dead and wounded soldiers. And as he looked on the faces of the dead, their sightless eyes upturned to heaven, and the groans of the wounded sounding in his ears, he turned sick at heart, and wondered why men created in the image of God would try to kill and maim each other. And yet, a few moments before, he himself was wild with the excitement of battle, and could scarcely be restrained from rushing into it.

The next day the army advanced, and passed the place where Fred met with his adventure, and he thought he would make another visit to Miss Alice Johnson. But that young lady gave him a cold reception. She called him a "miserable, sneaking Yankee," and turned her back on him in disgust. He didn't hear the last of his call on Miss Johnson.

Fred pointed out the place where his horse had leaped the fence, and officers and men were astonished, and Prince became as much a subject of praise as his rider. It was a common saying among the soldiers as he rode by, "There goes the smartest boy and best horse in Kentucky."

When Fred returned to Camp Dick Robinson, he found a letter awaiting him from General Nelson. The general was making a campaign against a portion of the command of General Humphrey Marshall in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky, and wrote that if Fred could possibly come to him to do so.

"Of course; go at once," said General Thomas, when the letter was shown him. "I am sorry to lose you, but I think Zollicoffer will be rather quiet for a while, and General Nelson has the first claim on you. I shall always be grateful to you for the service you have rendered me. I trust that it is but the beginning of still closer relations in the future."

It was fated that General Thomas and Fred were to be much together before the war closed.