OHO NE! OHO NE! OHO NE!
Monday Calhoun left for Detroit. Dr. Warrenton was on the train, but they
met as strangers. When he reached the city and went to register at the
Russell House, a gentleman was carelessly leaning against the desk talking
with the clerk. He did not appear to notice Calhoun, but he had caught the
word “Chic.” after his name.
After a few moments the gentleman approached Calhoun and said: “Pardon me,
but is not this Mr. Harrison of Kentucky?”
“My name is Harrison,” answered Calhoun, “but if you would examine the
register you would see I am from Chicago.”
“Ah, yes, I understand,” and he gave the secret sign of the order. “Come,”
he continued, “and let me introduce you to some friends.”
He led the way to a room where there were several gentlemen seated smoking
and talking, among them Dr. Warrenton, who gave him a warm greeting.
“I have been telling them about you,” said Warrenton, “and they are all
anxious to meet you.”
The Doctor then introduced Calhoun to each member of the party. There was
Wrightman of New York, Bowman of Indiana, Hartman of Missouri, Bullock of
Kentucky, and others.
“You don’t tell me you are the son of my old friend, Judge Pennington, of
Danville,” asked Mr. Bullock, as he shook Calhoun warmly by the hand.
“The very same,” answered Calhoun.
“Gentlemen, we need have no fears of Lieutenant Pennington,” exclaimed Mr.
Bullock, addressing those present. “I will vouch for him with my life.
Let’s see, your name is now—”
“Harrison for the present,” answered Calhoun, with a smile.
The party had no trouble in getting across the river, and that night there
was a meeting in Windsor which boded ill for the Federal government.
The Supreme Commander of the order was a gentleman in the full vigor of
manhood. He was polished in his manner, rather reserved, but every action
showed that he was accustomed to command. Behind it all Calhoun thought
that he detected the signs of an inordinate ambition—an ambition which
would stop for nothing.
“Isn’t he grand,” whispered Dr. Warrenton to Calhoun. “A fit
representative to wear the mantle of your great namesake.”
“Better say the mantle of Aaron Burr,” thought Calhoun, but he wisely did
not give expression to his thought. The object of Calhoun’s coming was
fully explained, and it was decided by a unanimous vote, that he should
receive the fourth degree, and thus be entitled to all the information
which he wished.
The degree was duly conferred on him. Calhoun was now certain he was among
a band of conspirators who would stop at nothing to achieve their ends.
“Is this the highest of the degrees?” asked Calhoun, when he was through.
The party exchanged meaning glances, and then the Supreme Commander said:
“There is one more degree, but it is given only to the highest officers in
the order, and would not be of the least advantage to you.”
Calhoun was certain there was something which those present did not wish
him to know—some object which they wished to keep secret.
The number of members in the order was now given to Calhoun. The figures
astounded him. In Iowa there were twenty thousand members, in Missouri
fifty thousand, in Illinois one hundred and twenty thousand, in Indiana
one hundred thousand, in Ohio eighty thousand. Throughout the East the
order was not so numerous. This seemed strange to Calhoun, for he thought
that New York especially would be fertile ground for it.
“How many of these men are armed?” asked Calhoun.
The answer was: “In Missouri nearly all, in Illinois fifty thousand, in
Indiana forty thousand, in Ohio the same, in Kentucky nearly all.”
“Gentlemen,” exclaimed Calhoun, with considerable warmth, “if these
figures are correct, why have you not arisen before this, and hurled the
Lincoln government from power? Pardon me, but it looks like timidity. The
North is denuded of men, those loyal to Lincoln are in the army.”
“That is what I have insisted on,” cried Mr. Bowman, of Indiana, jumping
to his feet in his excitement. “I say strike, strike now! We of Indiana
are ready. Liberate the Confederate prisoners in Northern prison pens! We
have arms for them. If necessary, give every Northern city over to the
flames.”
“Brother Bowman forgets,” answered the Supreme Commander, “that our forces
are scattered; that if we attempt to concentrate, the government will take
alarm and crush us. At present we have to work in secret.”
“But what if Indiana and Ohio should be invaded?” asked Calhoun.
“That would be different,” was the answer.
“What if you should be successful in your plans?” asked Calhoun.
“Let the South go free. We firmly believe in the doctrine of States’
Rights,” was the answer.
“Would your states cast their lot with the South?” asked Calhoun, eagerly.
Again there were meaning glances among the leaders. “It is yet too early
to answer that question,” slowly replied the Supreme Commander, “or even
to discuss it. The overthrow of the present Abolition government and the
independence of the South is now our object.”
But had the leaders a further object? Calhoun resolved to find out, and he
did.
The conference at Windsor was over. It was resolved that the order should
everywhere be strengthened, and that it should strike at the first
favorable opportunity. That opportunity would come at once, should the
North be invaded.
From Detroit Calhoun went to Columbus, Ohio, from there to Dayton, the
home of Vallandigham. He found that that gentleman was the idol of that
section. They wanted him to come home. They swore they would defend him
with their lives. The whole country reeked with disloyalty to the Federal
government.
Calhoun availed himself of the opportunity of talking with all classes of
citizens. He especially tried to get at the feelings of the humbler
members of the Knights of the Golden Circle, why they joined the order,
and what they proposed doing. All the information he gleaned he treasured
up.
From Dayton Calhoun proceeded to Indianapolis, where he was to meet Mr.
Bowman. He found Indiana much better organized than any of the other
states. Bowman was enthusiastic, and he seemed to hate the Lincoln
government with his whole soul. He would stop at nothing to achieve his
ends. But the especial object of his hatred was Governor Morton.
“I want to live long enough,” he said, “to see that tyrant hanged for
trampling on the constitution of the state.”
Calhoun found that the Knights stood in great dread of Morton. They
declared he had a way of finding out every secret of the order. If he had
not been thoroughly guarded, his life would not have been worth a
farthing.
Calhoun was taken into the country, where he witnessed the drilling of two
or three companies of Knights. These meetings always took place at night,
in some secret place, and sentinels were posted to guard against surprise.
Calhoun talked with many of the members to get their ideas and to find out
what they wished to accomplish.
“What do you think?” asked Bowman of Calhoun, after they had returned to
Indianapolis. “I have forty thousand of those fellows.”
“Will they fight?” asked Calhoun.
“Fight? Of course they will fight,” was the answer. “Let Morgan get into
the state, and you will see.”
At Indianapolis Calhoun met with a wealthy farmer named Jones, who lived
near Corydon. He had no words too severe to say of Lincoln, and boasted of
the number of Knights in his part of the state.
“We are going to sweep the Black Abolitionists from the earth,” he
exclaimed, boastingly, “and hang Old Abe, and Morton too.”
“What would you do if Morgan came?” asked Calhoun.
“Do? I would throw my hat in the air and yell until I was hoarse,” was the
answer.
“What if Morgan should want some of your horses?” asked Calhoun.
Mr. Jones’s countenance fell. At length he mumbled, “Of course he would
pay me for them?”
“Of course,” replied Calhoun, in a tone which the old gentleman did not
quite understand.
Just before Calhoun was ready to leave Indianapolis Bowman told him Morton
was to hold a reception, and asked him if he would not like to attend and
see the great War Governor.
Nothing would suit Calhoun better. He had a desire to see the man of whom
he had heard so much—a man who had the majority of his legislature against
him, yet held the state as in the hollow of his hand—a man who borrowed
hundreds of thousands of dollars in his own name, that the soldiers of his
state might be thoroughly equipped. He had overcome every difficulty, and
held his state firmly for the Union. Now, with thousands of the citizens
of the state secretly plotting against him, he moved serenely along the
path he had marked out. Urged to adopt the most severe measures, he knew
when, and when not, to make an arrest. He avoided angering his enemies
except when the public safety demanded it. His very name caused every
member of the Knights of the Golden Circle to tremble. Little did Calhoun
think that when he promised to attend the governor’s reception that
Morton’s detectives were already looking for him. The renewed activity of
the Knights had aroused the Governor’s suspicions, and he was not long in
finding out the cause. To locate and arrest the Southern officer who was
causing the ferment, was his order to his detectives.
A large crowd attended the reception, and in such a gathering Calhoun felt
in no danger. He saw in Morton a thickset, heavy man with a massive head
and brain. He looked every inch the intellectual giant that he was.
“The grandest figure,” thought Calhoun, “that I have seen in the North. He
is a man to beware of. No wonder the Knights stand in fear of him.”
When Calhoun, passing along in the throng, took the Governor’s hand,
Morton bent his piercing look upon him, and the question came as if shot
out of his mouth, “Where from, young man?”
The suddenness of the question threw Calhoun off his guard, and almost
involuntarily he answered, “From Kentucky.”
“From Kentucky, eh! And how goes it down there?”
Calhoun was himself again. “Of course,” he answered, “we are greatly
divided in that state, but all the powers of Jeff Davis cannot tear it
from the Union.”
“Good, pass on,” and the Governor turned to the next in line.
But a feeling as of impending danger took possession of Calhoun. Why that
question to him? He had heard it asked of no other. Could it be he was
suspected? Forcing his way through the throng, he got out of the building
as soon as possible.
It was well that he did so, for hardly had the Governor let go Calhoun’s
hand, when he motioned to General Carrington, and whispered to him:
“Arrest that young man. Do it as quietly as possible, but see he does not
get away. He is the Southern officer we have been looking for, I am sure.
I have a full description of him.”
General Carrington in turn whispered to a couple of quiet-looking men,
dressed in citizen’s clothes who stood near the Governor. They nodded, and
started after Calhoun, who was now nearly lost to view in the crowd.
Once out of the building Calhoun found that hundreds of spectators had
gathered out of curiosity. They were hurrahing for Lincoln and Morton, and
shouting for the Union, and some were singing, “We’ll hang Jeff Davis on a
sour-apple tree.”
Rapidly pushing his way through this mob, he reached the outer edge of the
circle. Here groups of men were standing, but they were not hurrahing.
Instead, their looks were dark and surly, and it was plain they were not
enjoying the proceedings. Just as Calhoun reached these groups, a heavy
hand was laid on his shoulder, and a stern low voice said: “You are our
prisoner; better come quietly and make no disturbance.” And in a trice
Calhoun felt each of his arms grasped by strong hands. He was powerless in
the iron grip by which he was held; if help there was, it must come from
the outside.
“Oho ne! Oho ne! Oho ne!”
The despairing cry cleft the night air like a knife. It fell on the
astonished ears of hundreds who did not understand it. But to those groups
of silent, sullen-browed men it came as the call of a trumpet, summoning
them to duty.
“Oho ne! Oho ne!” they answered, and before the surprised officers could
draw a weapon, could raise a hand to defend themselves, they were beaten
down, and their prisoner snatched from them.
The alarm was raised, and a company of soldiers came on the run, with
fixed bayonets, scattering the crowd right and left. But when they reached
the spot they found only a couple of half-dazed and bleeding officers.
They could only say they had been set upon, knocked down, and their
prisoner taken from them. By whom they did not know, for it was dark, and
the crowd had dispersed.
When the onset came, Calhoun felt himself grasped by the arm, and a voice
whispered, “Follow me, quick!”
Into the darkness Calhoun dashed, following his guide. In the shadow of
buildings, through dark alleys, they ran. At last they came to a part of
the city where only a lamp gleamed here and there. They stopped running,
both exhausted, their breath coming in quick gasps.
[Illustration: INTO THE DARKNESS CALHOUN DASHED, FOLLOWING HIS GUIDE.]
“We are safe now,” said the guide, “but it was a close shave for you. What
did they arrest you for?”
“To hang me,” answered Calhoun, with a shudder. “I am a Confederate
officer.”
“I thought you must be some big gun, or old Morton wouldn’t have tried to
arrest you in that crowd; but don’t worry, you are all right now.”
His guide, whose name proved to be Randall, soon came to a house which he
said was his home, “and,” he exclaimed, “none of Abe Lincoln’s minions
will ever find you here. I have sheltered more than one escaped
Confederate prisoner from that infernal pen out there called Camp Morton.
It should be called Camp Hades.”
Calhoun was ushered into the house, and shown a room. “Sleep soundly, and
without fear,” said Mr. Randall.
Calhoun took his advice, but before he went to sleep he did not forget to
return thanks for his escape, and he also had a great deal more respect
for the Knights of the Golden Circle than he had had before. The next
morning the papers came out with a full description of Calhoun, telling of
his escape, and saying he was a famous spy. The article ended with the
announcement that so important did the government consider his person that
a reward of one thousand dollars would be paid for his recapture. Calhoun
now knew that his work was done in the North. The only thing that remained
for him was to get out of it as secretly as possible.
Two days afterwards he was conveyed out of the city concealed in a
farmer’s wagon. He was passed on from the hands of one true Knight to
another, and at the end of three days he found himself on the banks of the
Ohio, a few miles above Madison. In the darkness of the night he was rowed
over, and his feet once more pressed the soil of his native state. In his
ecstasy he felt like kissing the ground, for was it not the soil of
Kentucky?
At the house of a true Southerner he found refuge. His measure was taken
into Carrolton, where a tailor made him a fine uniform. Purchasing a horse
of the gentleman with whom he stayed, he bade him good-bye, and sprang
into the saddle. The sun had just set, and the whole west glowed with the
beauty which we ascribe to the Golden City. In the midst of the gold hung
the new moon like a silver bow.
“See! see!” cried Calhoun, “the new moon, I saw it over my right shoulder.
It means good luck.”
And while the happy omen still gleamed in the west, he galloped away.