ies were clapped into prison. Citizens who had joined the
Confederates were pronounced guilty of treason, and Breckinridge was
expelled from the Senate as a traitor. Morgan's great raid in June,
'61, spread consternation through the land and, straightway, every
district and county were at the mercy of a petty local provost. No man
of Southern sympathies could stand for office. Courts in session were
broken up with the bayonet. Civil authority was overthrown. Destruction
of property, indemnity assessments on innocent men, arrests,
imprisonment, and murder became of daily occurrence. Ministers were
jailed and lately prisons had even been prepared for disloyal women.
Major Buford, forced to stay at home on account of his rheumatism and
the serious illness of Miss Lucy, had been sent to prison once and was
now under arrest again. General Dean, old as he was, had escaped and
had gone to Virginia to fight with Lee; and Margaret and Mrs. Dean,
with a few servants, were out on the farm alone.

But neither spoke of the worst that both feared was yet to come--and
"Taps" sounded soft and dear on the night air.

CHAPTER 23.

CHAD CAPTURES AN OLD FRIEND

Meanwhile Morgan was coming on--led by the two videttes in gray--Daniel
Dean and Rebel Jerry Dillon--coming on to meet Kirby Smith in Lexington
after that general had led the Bluegrass into the Confederate fold.
They were taking short cuts through the hills now, and Rebel Jerry was
guide, for he had joined Morgan for that purpose. Jerry had long been
notorious along the border. He never gave quarter on his expeditions
for personal vengeance, and it was said that not even he knew how many
men he had killed. Every Morgan's man had heard of him, and was anxious
to see him; and see him they did, though they never heard him open his
lips except in answer to a question. To Dan he seemed to take a strange
fancy right away, but he was as voiceless as the grave, except for an
occasional oath, when bush-whackers of Daws Dillon's ilk would pop at
the advance guard--sometimes from a rock directly overhead, for chase
was useless. It took a roundabout climb of one hundred yards to get to
the top of that rock, so there was nothing for videttes and guards to
do but pop back, which they did to no purpose. On the third day,
however, after a skirmish in which Dan had charged with a little more
dare-deviltry than usual, the big Dillon ripped out an oath of protest.
An hour later he spoke again: