“Head-quarters, Telegraph Dept. of Ky., Confederate States of America”—­thus he headed his General Order No. to the various Union authorities throughout the State

“Hereafter,” he clicked, grinning, “an operator will destroy telegraphic instruments and all material in charge when informed that Morgan has crossed the border.  Such instances of carelessness as lately have been exhibited in the Bluegrass will be severely dealt with.

“By order of

Lightning,

“Gen. Supt.  C. S. Tel.  Dept.”

Just about that time Chad Buford, in a Yankee hospital, was coming back from the land of ether dreams.  An hour later, the surgeon who had taken Dan’s bullet from his shoulder, handed him a piece of paper, black with faded blood and scarcely legible.

“I found that in your jacket,” he said.  “Is it important?”

Chad smiled.

“No,” he said.  “Not now.”

CHAPTER 25.  AFTER DAWS DILLON—­GUERILLA

Once more, and for the last time, Chadwick Buford jogged along the turnpike from the Ohio to the heart of the Bluegrass.  He had filled his empty shoulder-straps with two bars.  He had a bullet wound through one shoulder and there was a beautiful sabre cut across his right cheek.  He looked the soldier every inch of him; he was, in truth, what he looked; and he was, moreover, a man.  Naturally, his face was stern and resolute, if only from habit of authority, but he had known no passion during the war that might have seared its kindness; no other feeling toward his foes than admiration for their unquenchable courage and miserable regret that to such men he must be a foe.

Now, it was coming spring again—­the spring of ’64, and but one more year of the war to come.

The capture of the Fourth Ohio by Morgan that autumn of ’62 had given Chad his long-looked-for chance.  He turned Dixie’s head toward the foothills to join Wolford, for with Wolford was the work that he loved—­that leader being more like Morgan in his method and daring than any other Federal cavalryman in the field behind him.  In Kentucky, he left the State under martial sway once more, and, thereafter, the troubles of rebel sympathizers multiplied steadily, for never again was the State under rebel control.  A heavy hand was laid on every rebel roof.  Major Buford was sent to prison again.  General Dean was in Virginia, fighting, and only the fact that there was no man in the Dean household on whom vengeance could fall, saved Margaret and Mrs. Dean from suffering, but even the time of women was to come.