Unfortunately a slight misunderstanding
arose between them. This, while not serious in itself, was made bitter
by the interference of others, and the unaccountable jealousies of
garrison life. One night they openly quarrelled when heated by wine,
and exchanged blows. The following evening, your father chancing to be
officer of the guard and on duty, my father, whose wife had then been
dead a year, was thoughtless enough to accompany Mrs. Nolan home at a
late hour from the post ball. It was merely an act of ordinary
courtesy; but gossips magnified the tale, and bore it to Nolan. Still
smarting from the former quarrel, in which I fear my father was in the
wrong, he left the guard-house with the openly avowed intention of
seeking immediate satisfaction. In the meanwhile Slavin, Murphy, and a
trooper named Flynn, who had been to town without passes, and were
half-drunk, stole through the guard lines, and decided to make a
midnight raid on the colonel's private office. Dodging along behind
the powder-house, they ran suddenly upon my father, then on the way to
his own quarters. Whether they were recognized by him, or whether
drink made them reckless of consequences, is unknown, but one of the
men instantly fired.
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