Harry, young as he was, recognized that his own state would be more fiercely divided than any other by the great strife.
But Federal and Confederate alike preserved the semblance of peace as they gathered at Frankfort for the political struggle over the state.
Colonel Kenton and his son took the train at a point about forty miles from the capital, and they found it crowded with public men going from Louisville to Frankfort.

It was the oldest railroad west of the Alleghanies, and among the first ever built.

The coaches swung around curves, and dust and particles flew in at the windows, but the speed was a relief after the crawling of the stage and Harry stretched himself luxuriously on the plush seat.
A tall man in civilian attire, holding himself very stiffly, despite the swinging and swaying of the train, rose from his seat, and came forward to greet Colonel Kenton.
"George," he said, his voice quivering slightly, "you and I have fought together in many battles in Mexico and the West, but it is likely now that we shall fight other battles on this own soil of ours against each other.

But, George, let us be friends always, and let us pledge it here and now." The words might have seemed a little dramatic elsewhere, but not so under the circumstances of time and place.

Colonel Kenton's quick response came from the depths of a generous soul.
"John," he said as their two hands met in the grip of brothers of the camp and field, "you and I may be on opposing sides, but we can never be enemies.