night, anxious to reach New Orleans, I took a stern-wheel boat
out of Wichita; and as it was late, the clerk said the only berth
he could give me was in a state-room with another man. I crawled
into the top berth, and towards morning I was awakened by a noise
beneath me. Carefully looking over the berth, I spied the occupant
of the lower berth with a long Colt's navy revolver in his hand.
His hair was disheveled, and his eye was wild, while his actions
indicated that he was hunting for somebody. I lay very quiet,
however, thinking that he was either a victim of delirium tremens
or a lunatic. At last he arose and opened the door and went into
the cabin, the only occupants of which were the porter and the
watchman. They lost no time in leaving, when they saw a man clad
only in a night-shirt and drawers, with a drawn revolver in his
hand.

I arose and dressed, as I had had enough of such a room-mate; and
on telling the clerk of the facts, he said:

"That's strange, for I knew the man very well. He never drinks,
but he has killed three men."

That settled it with me. He was haunted by the ghosts of his
murdered victims.

McCOOLE AND COBURN.

When the McCoole and Coburn fight came on, I left New Orleans for
the purpose of witnessing the sport. On reaching Cincinnati, John
Franklin invited me to go over to Latonia Springs and see Coburn.
I did so, and spent a pleasant afternoon with him. He invited me
to come over and keep him company; and as I thought I could turn
an honest penny as well as have a little recreation, I packed up
my faro tools and went into the dark and bloody ground back of
Covington. When any strangers came along, I opened up and caught
all that was in sight.

As the time for the fight drew near, a number of Coburn's friends
came on from New York. They were glad to see him in such good
heart and spirits. They came with a good deal of money to back
him up; and as the boys had to do something to while away the weary
hours, Joe introduced them to my partner, saying that he was a New
Orleans gentleman who had come on to aid me in money matters. Joe
called him a planter, and the New Yorkers were so pleased with him
that they invited him into a game of poker. The result was that
he did them up for a few hundred, and one of the party, who was an
old faro dealer, secured a few of the cards, examined them in
another room, and coming back, observed:

"Count me out of this game. I don't want