lest I might meet unexpectedly my unknown antagonist and erstwhile hostile enemy; but one night I accepted the invitation of a tall, robust-built Captain from Tennessee (a room-mate, and also convalescent from a slight wound) to take a stroll.  Being quite small, friendless, and alone, I did not object to this herculean chaperone.  After tiring of the stroll, we sauntered into a soldier’s cheap restaurant and called for plates.  While we were waiting the pleasure of “mine host,” the tread of footsteps and merry laughter of a crowd of jolly roisters met our ears, and in walked some soldiers in the garb of “city police,” and with the crowd was my man of the “long coat-tail.”  My heart sank into the bottom of my boots, my speech failed me, and I sat stupified, staring into space.  Should he recognize me, then what?  My thought ran quick and fast.  I never once expected help from my old Tennessean.  As we were only “transient” acquaintances, I did not think of the brotherhood of the soldier in this emergency.  The man of the “long coat” approached our table and raised my hat, which, either by habit or force of circumstances, I will not say, I had the moment before pulled down over my eyes.

“Hey, my fine young man, I think I know you.  Aren’t you the chap that torn my coat sometime ago?  Answer me, sir,” giving me a vigorous shake on the shoulder.  “You are the very d——­n young ruffian that did it, and I am going to give you such a thrashing as you will not forget.”

I have never yet fully decided what answer I was going to make—­whether I was going to say yes, and ask his pardon, with the risk of a thrashing, or deny it—­for just at that moment the “tall sycamore of the Holston” reached out with his fist and dealt my assailant a blow sufficient to have felled an ox of the Sweetwater.  Sending the man reeling across the room, the blood squirting and splattering, he said: 

“Gentlemen, I came here with this boy, and whoever whips him has first got to walk my log, and that is what few people can do.”

The old “sycamore” from Tennessee looked to me at that precious moment as tall as a church steeple, and fully as large around.  In all my whole life never was a man’s presence so agreeable and his services so acceptable.  It gave me a confidence in myself I never felt before nor since.  His manly features and giant-like powers acted like inspiration upon me, and I felt for the time like a Goliath myself, and rose to my feet to join in the fray.  But my good deliverer pushed me back and said: 

“Stand aside, young man, I have tickets for both in here,” and with that he began to wield his mighty blows first here and then there—­first one and then another went staggering across the room, until the crowd gathered outside and put an end to the frolic.  No explanations were given and none asked.  Taking me by the arm, the big Captain led me away, saying, after we had gone some little distance: 

“Young man, that was a narrow escape you made, and it was lucky I was on hand.”