, and they drew nearer to hear.

"Come, Mr. Jackson," said I, "you are a lawyer and a gentleman, and so am
I. I do not care to be beaten to a pulp, but I am not afraid of you.
And I am in a hurry. If you will step back into the tavern, I will
explain to you my reasons for wishing to get to Mr. Temple."

Mr. Jackson stared at me the more.

"By the eternal," said he, "you are a cool man. Give me my coat," he
shouted to the bystanders, and they helped him on with it. "Now," said
he, as they made to follow him, "keep back. I would talk to this
gentleman. By the heavens," he cried, when he had gained the room, "I
believe you are not afraid of me. I saw it in your eyes."

Then I laughed.

"Mr. Jackson," said I, "doubtless you do not remember a homeless boy
named David whom you took to your uncle's house in the Waxhaws--"

"I do," he exclaimed, "as I live I do. Why, we slept together."

"And you stumped your toe getting into bed and swore," said I.

At that he laughed so heartily that the landlord came running across the
room.

"And we fought together at the Old Fields School. Are you that boy?" and
he scanned me again. "By God, I believe you are." Suddenly his face
clouded once more.

"But what about Temple?" said he.

"Ah," I answered, "I come to that quickly. Mr. Temple is my cousin.
After I left your uncle's house my father took me to Charlestown."

"Is he a Charlestown Temple?" demanded Mr. Jackson. "For I spent some
time gambling and horse-racing with the gentry there, and I know many of
them. I was a wild lad" (I repeat his exact words), "and I ran up a bill
in Charlestown that would have filled a folio volume. Faith, all I had
left me was the clothes on my back and a good horse. I made up my mind
one night that if I could pay my debts and get out of Charlestown I would
go into the back country and study law and sober down. There was a Mr.
Braiden in the ordinary who staked me two hundred dollars at
rattle-and-snap against my horse. Gad, sir, that was providence. I won.
I left Charlestown with honor, I studied law at Salisbury in North
Carolina, and I have come here to practise it."

"You seem to have the talent," said I, smiling at the remembrance of the
Hump Gibson incident.

"That is my history in a nutshell," said Mr. Jackson.

"And now," he added, "since you are Mr. Temple's cousin and friend and an
old acquaintance of mine to boot, I will tell you where I think he is."

"Where is that?" I asked