This dispute culminated in an agreement to proceed at once to a spot in the outskirts of the city, where the Southerner and Hogan could settle matters without delay.
Ben had no friends in the city, but he carried with him a six-shooter, and was ready enough to accept any risks for the sake of a fight.
The party, consisting of half a dozen spectators besides the principals, drove to the spot agreed upon. Ben and his antagonist threw off their coats, and faced each other for business. Hogan supposed the fight was to be a fair contest with the fists, and had no suspicion of any more serious encounter. For a time the Southerner parried and dealt the blows in a scientific manner; but becoming enraged at a blinder in the left eye, he clinched with Ben, and the match became a rough-and-tumble fight. It was very hot on both sides while it lasted. Ben fought like a tiger, and Baldy fumed and swore, as they rolled over the ground. Finally, seeing that Ben was too much for him, he drew a revolver, and seizing the opportunity, held the muzzle close to Hogan’s temple, and pulled the trigger. The weapon missed fire, and before he could cock it again, Ben had whipped out his own shooter, and in another moment the sharp report of a pistol rang out on the air! The men had struggled to their feet during the encounter, but now the Southerner fell back, exclaiming:
The bullet had nearly done its work with terrible certainty. Ben’s antagonist lay stretched there for dead. He had fired purely in self-defense, and this fact was so apparent to the entire party that they made no effort to attack our hero.
With the now unconscious Baldy, the men returned to the city, where Hogan surrendered himself to the authorities. He felt that he had been perfectly justified in the course he had pursued, and felt little or no apprehension as to the result of the adventure.
New Orleans was in a state of too intense excitement at that time to make a trial in her civil courts a matter of much importance. Ben was arraigned, but discharged on condition that he should enter the Confederate service. This, of course, he readily agreed to do.
He was stationed in one of the barracks of the city, and in twenty-four hours’ time succeeded in making his escape.
He drifted from New Orleans to Mobile, still in search of adventure, and still prepared to profit by any new turn which Fortune’s wheel might make. His sojourn in this latter city, although brief, was by no means uneventful.
On the second day after his arrival he formed the acquaintance of a party of professional gamblers, who invited him to engage in a game of draw-poker. His former experience in this seductive pastime did not prevent him from accepting the proposition to play. He had grown wiser now, and knew that five jacks would not pass muster under the laws of Hoyle or of ex-Minister Moulte. The game was played in a room occupied by the gamblers, and situated over one of the principal dry goods stores of the city.