One day a little knot of men, in the faded, dilapidated garments of the army, entered the tap-room of Hatchie's protector. They drank deeply, and, as was their constant practice, they seated themselves at the broken table, and commenced gambling with the negro's dirty cards for the few dollars which remained in their possession. This amusement terminated, as such amusements frequently do, in a fight, in which one of the number seemed to be singled out as an object of vengeance for the others. This individual was an Irishman; and, for a time, he held way manfully against his assailants. But, at last, in spite of the exertions of the "proprietor" to protect him, he was likely to get the worst of it, when Hatchie, no longer able to control his indignation at the unfairness displayed in the encounter, suddenly interfered in favor of the now fallen man. His enormous strength and skill soon cleared the room of the rioters. Hatchie drew the defeated Irishman into his hiding-place, and locked the door. This man was Pat Fegan, who has been introduced to the reader. Pat was filled with gratitude to his protector, and swore he would stick by him till his dying day, if he was a "naiger." A mutual friendship was thus established, which resulted in the disclosure of their future prospects. The fact that both were seeking the same destination seemed to strengthen the bond thus formed. Hatchie, shrewd by nature, read the true heart of the Irishman. He felt that he could trust him with his life; but his ability was quite another thing. Pat Fegan was without means, and readily accepted the hospitality which Hatchie offered to pay for. In the course of the long conversations with which the two friends beguiled the weary day, Pat related his adventures in Mexico, at the close of which he casually mentioned that the remains of several officers, who died there, were to be conveyed up the river. Hatchie's curiosity prompted many inquiries, which drew from the talkative Hibernian a full description of the boxes that contained the coffins, and many particulars relative to the transportation of them. Pat's description of the boxes suggested to Hatchie the means of getting to Cincinnati. "Could you get me a box like those which contain these coffins?" asked he. "Faix, I can, thin, if I only had the matther of two or three dollars. But what the divil makes yous ax sich a question?" "I will give you ten dollars, and pay your passage to Cincinnati besides, if you will get me the box," said Hatchie, disregarding Pat's query. "By me sowl, I'll get yous the box, and ax yous only the price meself pays for 't," replied Pat, touched at the idea of a reward, which between friends seemed base even to his rude mind. "And I shall want your help, too." "Yous may well count on that, for whin did a Fegan desart his frind? But tell me, honey, what yous mane to do wid it." "I intend to get to Cincinnati in it."