and thus landed in
Galveston. Then he released his prisoner, and repaired immediately to
General Sam Houston's quarters to give himself up for mutiny on the
high seas. His story had preceded him, and, on presenting himself, the
President exclaimed: "What! is this beardless boy the desperate
mutineer of whom you have been telling me?" And, after inquiring into
the affair, feeling thoroughly convinced that, according to the laws
of self-defense, my brother's conduct was justifiable, dismissed him,
with some very complimentary remarks on his courageous behavior. The
young hero was loudly cheered by the populace, and borne on their
shoulders in triumph to his hotel.

He soon after received a commission in the Texan army, where he
served faithfully till the war was ended, and then returned to
Cincinnati, at that time our widowed mother's home.

While in the Southwest, he was one day riding entirely alone through a
wilderness, in some part of Texas, I think, when he saw in the
distance, riding directly towards him, his old West Point antagonist,
who had so far lost caste at that institution as to be obliged to
resign about the time of my brother's dismissal. He had learned that
Malcolm was in the country, whither he also had drifted, and had
threatened to take his life, if ever he crossed his path. My brother,
knowing of this threat, of course, concluded that when he met his
enemy there would be a deadly encounter. Both were heavily armed;
Malcolm had two pistols, but had discharged one at a prairie hen a
short time before, and had forgotten which one was still loaded. It
would not do to make investigations in the very face of his foe; so
with his hand on one of them, and his keen eye firmly fixed on the
man, he rode on, determined not to give one inch of the road. Thus
they approached each other, neither yielding; my brother's steady gaze
never relaxing, till just as their mules almost touched one another,
his enemy gave the road, and Malcolm went on, feeling that very
probably his foe would shoot him from behind, but never looking back,
till, by a turn in the road, he knew he was out of sight, when he drew
a long breath, and felt that he had been in a pretty tight place. The
next news he had of his adversary was, that he had been killed in a
drunken row in some town in Texas.

Failing to find in Cincinnati, business congenial to his taste, my
brother obtained, through our father's life-long friend, Captain John
Culberts