r the tree. So Boyd had won this round--they
were still in Kentucky and not too far from Oak Hill.

5

_Bardstown Surrenders_

"Now that's what I call true hospitality, gentlemen, true hospitality."
Kirby caressed his middle section gently with both hands, smiling
dreamily into the lacing of apple boughs over his head. "I ain't had me
a feed like that since we took that sutler's wagon back outside Mount
Sterlin'. 'Mos' forgot theah was such vittles lyin' 'bout to be sampled.
An' you got us most of the cream, too, 'cause you're poor little
misguided boys a-runnin' 'way to be with us desperate characters. Git me
a bowie knife, an' I'll show you how to cut throats--all free, too."

Drew laughed, but Boyd did not appear amused. They had been favored with
a short but pungent lecture from Mr. McKeever, served along with food,
which to Drew made it worth the return of listening decorously to a
listing of their sins.

"I ain't goin' home," Boyd repeated stubbornly.

"Well," Kirby pointed out, "if he rides up to the Yankee prison camp, he
ain't gonna find you neither. So what's the difference? I think we
oughta be movin' on, seein' as how we ain't really on speakin' terms
with the law heah 'bouts."

It would appear that Captain Campbell agreed with that. The order came
to saddle up and move out. But they went with provision sacks slung from
their saddles, a portion of McKeever's bounty stowed away against
tomorrow. And once they were past the house, the word came down the line
for Drew to quit his prisoner's role and join their commander.

Campbell held a fragment of map as he let his mount's pace fall to a
slow walk. "There are about a hundred Union infantry stationed at
Bardstown, according to Mr. McKeever. Know anything about the town?"

"I was there once. My cousin went to St. Joseph's for a term."

"Remember enough to find your way around?"

"I don't know, suh. But if there's a Union garrison--?" He ended the
sentence with an implied question.

"What are we going to do there?" The captain grinned. "We're going to
collect some arms, I hope. Supposing you were a Yankee commander,
Rennie, and a bold, bad raider like General Morgan was to ride clean up
to your door with a regiment or two tailing him and say: 'Your guns,
suh, or your life!' What would you do, especially if your troops were
mostly militia and green men who hadn't ever been in a real fight?"

Drew understood. "Probably, suh, I'd tell General