On Monday morning, just as the first scattering shots of Nelson's skirmishers were heard, Calhoun Pennington presented himself before the Hon. G. M. Johnson, Provisional Governor of Kentucky, on whose staff he was. When the Confederates retreated from Bowling Green Governor Johnson accompanied the Kentucky brigade south, and although not a soldier he had bravely fought throughout the entire battle of the day before.

The Governor and General Beauregard were engaged in earnest conversation when Calhoun came up, and both uttered an exclamation of surprise at his forlorn appearance. He was pale and haggard, his eyes were sunken and his garments were dripping with water, for he had just swum the Tennessee river.

"Great heavens! is it you, Lieutenant?" cried Johnson, and he caught Calhoun's hand and wrung it until he winced with pain.

"It is what is left of me," answered Calhoun, with a faint smile.

"You don't know," continued Johnson, "how glad I am to see you. I had given you up for lost, and bitterly blamed myself for allowing you to go on your dangerous undertaking. Where have you been? What has kept you so long?"

"First," answered Calhoun, "I must speak to General Beauregard," and, saluting, he said: "General, I bring you heavy news. Buell has joined Grant."

Beauregard started and turned pale. "I feared it, I feared it, when the Federals opened the battle this morning. I was just telling the Governor as you came up that Grant would never have assumed the offensive if he had not been reinforced."

"Oh!" said Calhoun, "if I had only been a couple of days earlier; if you had only attacked a couple of days sooner!"

"That was the calculation," answered Beauregard, "but the dreadful roads retarded us. Then we did not expect Buell for two or three days yet. Our scouts brought us information that he was to halt at least a couple of days at Waynesborough."

"So he was," answered Calhoun, bitterly; "and he would have done so if it had not been for that renegade Kentuckian, General Nelson. He it was who rushed through, and made it possible for Buell to be on the field to-day."

"Do you know how many men Buell has?" anxiously inquired Beauregard.

"Three strong divisions; I should say full 20,000."

Beauregard groaned. All visions of victory were dissolved. "I thank you, Lieutenant, for your information, although it is the knell of defeat. Yesterday we fought for victory; to-day I shall have to fight to save my army." So saying he mounted his horse and galloped rapidly to the scene of action.

"This is bad news that you bring, Lieutenant," said the Governor, after Beauregard had gone. "But tell me about yourself; you must have been in trouble."

"Yes, Governor, serious trouble. At first I was very successful, and found out that Nelson expected to be in Savannah by April 5th. I was just starting back with this important information, information which meant victory for our cause, when I was suddenly set upon and captured before I had time to raise a hand. I was accused of being a spy, but there was no proof against me, the only person who could have convicted me being a cousin, who refused to betray me; but he managed to hold me until my knowledge could do no good."

"It looks as though the hand of God were against us," solemnly responded Johnson. "If you had not been captured, we would surely have attacked a day or two earlier, and a glorious victory would have awaited us. But now——" the Governor paused, choked back something like a sob, and then continued: "There is no use of vain regrets. See, the battle is on, and I must once more take my place in the ranks and do my duty."

"Must do what, Governor?" asked Calhoun in surprise.

"Must fight in the ranks as a private soldier, as I did yesterday," replied the Governor calmly.

"I shall go with you," replied Calhoun.

So side by side the Governor and his aid fought as private soldiers, and did yeoman service. Just before the battle closed, in repelling the last furious charge of the Federals, Governor Johnson gave a sharp cry, staggered, and would have fallen if he had not been caught in the arms of Calhoun. Loving hands carried him back, but the brave spirit had fled forever. Thus died the most distinguished private soldier that fell on the field of Shiloh.

One of the first acts of Fred after the battle was over was to ride in search of Robert Marsden. He found him lying in a heap of slain at the place where the battery had been charged. A bullet had pierced the center of the miniature flag, and it was wet with his heart's blood. Reverently Fred removed the flag, closed the sightless eyes, and gave orders that the body, as soon as possible, be sent to Louisville.

As he was returning from this sad duty, he thought of the errand given him by General Nelson to hunt up the boy whom they saw capture the colors. Riding up to the regiment, he made inquiry, and to his surprise and delight found that the hero was Hugh Raymond.

"Hello, Hugh! don't you remember me?" asked Fred, when the boy presented himself.

"Yes, sir," replied Hugh, respectfully. "You are the young officer who got me released when General Nelson tied me to the cannon. I have never ceased to feel grateful towards you."

"Well, Hugh, General Nelson wants to see you again."

Hugh opened his eyes in wonder. "Don't want to tie me up again, does he?" he asked, with a shiver.

"I expect so. He saw you capture that flag and he is awful mad; so come along."

"General," said Fred, when he had found Nelson, "here is the brave boy who captured the colors."

"That was a gallant act, my boy," kindly remarked Nelson, "and you deserve the thanks of your general."

"It was nothing, General," replied Hugh. "It just made me mad to have them shake their dirty rag in my face, and I resolved to have it."

This answer pleased Nelson immensely. He noticed Hugh more closely, and then suddenly asked: "Have I not seen you somewhere before, my boy?"

"Yes, General," replied Hugh, trembling.

"Where?"

"On the march here, when you tied me by the wrists to a cannon for straggling."

Nelson was slightly taken back by the answer; then an amused look came into his face, and he said, in a bantering tone: "Liked it, didn't you?"

"Liked it! liked it!" exclaimed Hugh, with flaming eyes. "I was just mad enough at you to kill you."

"There is the boy for me," said Nelson, turning to his staff. "He not only captures flags, but he tells his general to his face what he thinks of him." Then addressing Hugh, he continued: "I want a good orderly, and I will detail you for the position."

So Hugh Raymond became an orderly to General Nelson, and learned to love him as much as he once hated him.

Now occurred one of those strange psychological impressions which science has never yet explained. A feeling came to Fred that he must ride over the battlefield. It was as if some unseen hand was pulling him, some power exerted that he could not resist. He mounted his horse and rode away, the course he took leading him to the place where Trabue's Kentucky brigade made its last desperate stand.

Suddenly the prostrate figure of a Confederate officer, apparently dead, attracted Fred's attention. As he looked a great fear clutched at his heart, causing it to stand still. Springing from his horse, he bent over the death-like form; then with a cry of anguish sank on his knees beside it. He had looked into the face of his father.

Springing from his Horse, he bent over the death-like form.

"Oh! he is dead, he is dead!" he moaned.

Bending down, he placed his ear over his father's heart; a faint fluttering could be heard.

"It beats! he lives! he lives!" he cried, joyously.

With eager eyes he searched for the wound. A ball had shattered Colonel Shackelford's leg, and he was bleeding to death.

For Fred to cut away the clothing from around the wound, and then to take a handkerchief and tightly twist it around the limb above the wound was the work of a moment. The flow of blood was stopped. Tenderly was Colonel Shackelford carried back, his weeping son walking by his side. The surgeon carefully examined the wounded limb, and then brusquely said: "It will have to come off."

"Oh! no, no, not that!" cried Fred, piteously.

"It's that, or his life," shortly answered the surgeon.

"Do it then," hoarsely replied Fred, as he turned away unable to bear the cruel sight.

When Colonel Shackelford came to himself, he was lying in a state-room in a steamboat, and was rapidly gliding down the Tennessee. Fred was sitting by his side, watching every movement, for his father had been hovering between life and death.

"Where am I? What has happened?" Colonel Shackelford faintly asked.

"Dear father," whispered Fred, "you have been very sick. Don't talk," and he gave him a soothing potion.

The colonel took it without a word, and sank into a quiet slumber. The surgeon came in, and looking at him, said: "It is all right, captain; he has passed the worst, and careful nursing will bring him around."

When the surgeon was gone Fred fell on his knees and poured out his soul in gratitude that his father was to live.

When Colonel Shackelford became strong enough to hear the story, Fred told him all; how he found him on the battlefield nearly dead from the loss of blood; how he bound up his wound and saved his life.

"And now, father," he said, "I am taking you home—home where we can be happy once more."

The wounded man closed his eyes and did not speak. Fred sank on his knees beside him.

"Father," he moaned, "father, can you not forgive? Can you not take me to your heart and love me once more?"

The father trembled; then stretching forth his feeble arm, he gently placed his hand on the head of his boy and murmured, "My son! my son!" and they mingled their glad tears together. In the old Kentucky home Fred nursed his father back to health and strength.

But another sad duty remained for Fred to perform. As soon as he felt that he could safely leave his father, he went to Louisville and placed in Mabel Vaughn's hands the little flag, torn by the cruel bullet and crimsoned with the heart's blood of her lover. The color fled from her face, she tottered, and Fred thought she was going to faint, but she recovered herself quickly, and leading him to a seat said gently: "Now tell me all about it."

Fred told her of the dreadful charge; how Marsden, in the very front, among the bravest of the brave, had found a soldier's death; and when he had finished the girl raised her streaming eyes to heaven and thanked God that he had given her such a lover.

Then standing before Fred, her beautiful face rendered still more beautiful by her sorrow, she said:

"Robert is gone, but I still have a work to do. Hereafter I shall do what I can to alleviate the sufferings of those who uphold the country's flag. In memory of this," and she pressed the little blood-stained flag to her lips, "I devote my life to this sacred object."

And binding up her broken heart, she went forth on her mission of love. She cooled the fevered brow, she bound up the broken limb, she whispered words of consolation into the ear of the dying, and wiped the death damp from the marble brow. Her very presence was a benediction, and those whose minds wandered would whisper as she passed that they had seen an angel.

Calhoun Pennington bitterly mourned the death of his chief. He afterward joined his fortune with John H. Morgan, and became one of that famous raider's most daring and trusted officers.

For some weeks Fred remained at home, happy in the company and love of his father. But their peace was rudely disturbed by the raids of Morgan, and then by the invasion of Kentucky by the Confederate armies.

After the untimely death of Nelson, Fred became attached to the staff of General George H. Thomas, and greatly distinguished himself in the numerous campaigns participated in by that famous general. But he never performed more valiant service than when he was known as "General Nelson's Scout."

THE END.