Patterson returned early the same day from Rocky Bar, fifty miles distant. Half-crazed from the effects of protracted indulgence in drinking and a severe personal encounter, his friends, to aid his return to sobriety, took him to the springs for a bath. Among others who accompanied him was one Terry, a vicious, unprincipled fellow, who, in a conflict with Patterson a year before, had begged abjectly for his life when he found himself slightly wounded, and ever after, spaniel-like, had licked the hand that smote him. When they arrived, Pinkham and his friends were singing the popular refrain of “John Brown,” and had just completed the line—
“We’ll hang Jeff Davis on a sour apple tree,”
as Patterson and his party stepped upon the porch. Jefferson Davis was at that time in custody. With the curiosity which exercised the Unionists, a singer said,
“Pink, do you think they will hang Jeff Davis?”
“Yes,” replied Pinkham, “in less than six weeks.”
Hearing a step on the threshold, he turned, and his gaze met the heated eyes of Patterson. Neither spoke, nor, except by vengeful looks, gave any token of recognition. Patterson advanced to the bar. Terry crowded behind him, and slipped a derringer into his pocket. With an oath and opprobrious epithet, Patterson said,
“Don’t mind him. He is not worth the notice of a gentleman.”
Pinkham, looking steadily at Patterson, with his habitual frown deepened, passed out upon the porch. Patterson went through the opposite door to the swimming pond, followed by Terry. After they were out, he handed the derringer back to Terry, and proceeded with his bath. Terry returned to the bar, and going around to the desk, while unobserved by Turner, the landlord, thrust a revolver under his coat, and went back to Patterson. Doubtless he told Patterson that Pinkham and his friends intended to attack him, for Patterson was observed on the moment to be greatly excited. Pinkham’s friend, who knew both Patterson and Terry, told Pinkham that mischief was brewing, and suggested their immediate return to town.
“No,” replied Pinkham, “when he insulted me in the bar-room I was unarmed, but now I am ready for him.”
“But it is better,” suggested his friend, “to avoid a collision. No one doubts your courage.”