CHAPTER III.
A Southern Trip—Experiences in New Orleans and Mobile—Three Men put under the Sod by Ben’s Bullets.
Shortly after the Oswego venture, Ben drifted once more to the West, and after a series of exciting adventures, which space prevents me from narrating, he brought up in the city of New Orleans.
There, one day, in a saloon which is somewhat famous as a resort for sporting characters, he became involved in a discussion with a stranger, the conversation leading to the subject of boxing. Ben, who felt the utmost confidence in his own fists, was not disposed to hear challenges thrown out at random without signifying his willingness to accept the same. The stranger in question, who may be designated by the title of Baldy, was disposed to be somewhat personal in his remarks.
“I tell you what it is,” he exclaimed, bringing his fist down on the bar with an emphatic thump, “I can lick any man that ever came from the North!”
Ben looked upon this as an invitation to respond, which he did promptly.
“I’m from the North,” he said, “and I’m willing to fight you whenever you say so.”
“From the North, are you?” returned Baldy. “Well, I reckon you must have come by the way of Germany, didn’t you? You don’t suppose any damned Dutchman can fight with a Southern gentleman, do you?”
Ben quietly signified his belief that, in spite of his being “a damned Dutchman,” he could furnish the Southern “gentleman” with all the satisfaction he wanted.