Tying my horse, and making my way through the press in front of the tavern door, I entered the common room, and found it stifling, brawling and drinking going on apace.  Scarce had I found a seat before the whole room was emptied by one consent, all crowding out of the door after two men who began a rough-and-tumble fight in the street.  I had seen rough-and-tumble fights in Kentucky, and if I have forborne to speak of them it is because there always has been within me a loathing for them.  And so I sat quietly in the common room until the landlord came.  I asked him if he could direct me to Mr. Wright’s house, as I had a letter for that gentleman.  His answer was to grin at me incredulously.

“I reckoned you wah’nt from these parts,” said he.  “Wright’s-out o’ town.”

“What is the excitement?” I demanded.

He stared at me.

“Nollichucky Jack’s been heah, in Jonesboro, young man,” said he.

“What,” I exclaimed, “Colonel Sevier?”

“Ay, Sevier,” he repeated.  “With Martin and Tipton and all the Caroliny men right heah, having a council of mility officers in the court-house, in rides Jack with his frontier boys like a whirlwind.  He bean’t afeard of ’em, and a bench warrant out ag’in him for high treason.  Never seed sech a recklessness.  Never had sech a jamboree sence I kept the tavern.  They was in this here room most of the day, and they was five fights before they set down to dinner.”

“And Colonel Tipton?” I said.

“Oh, Tipton,” said he, “he hain’t afeard neither, but he hain’t got men enough.”

“And where is Sevier now?” I demanded.

“How long hev you ben in town?” was his answer.

I told him.

“Wal,” said he, shifting his tobacco from one sallow cheek to the other, “I reckon he and his boys rud out just afore you come in.  Mark me,” he added, “when I tell ye there’ll be trouble yet.  Tipton and Martin and the Caroliny folks is burnin’ mad with Chucky Jack for the murder of Corn Tassel and other peaceful chiefs.  But Jack hez a wild lot with him,—­some of the Nollichucky Cave traders, and there’s one young lad that looks like he was a gentleman once.  I reckon Jack himself wouldn’t like to get into a fight with him.  He’s a wild one.  Great Goliah,” he exclaimed, running to the door, “ef thar ain’t a-goin’ to be another fight!  Never seed sech a day in Jonesboro.”

I likewise ran to the door, and this fight interested me.  There was a great, black-bearded mountaineer- farmer- desperado in the midst of a circle, pouring out a torrent of abuse at a tall young man.

“That thar’s Hump Gibson,” said the landlord, genially pointing out the black-bearded ruffian, “and the young lawyer feller hez git a jedgment ag’in him.  He’s got spunk, but I reckon Hump’ll t’ar the innards out’n him ef he stands thar a great while.”

“Ye’ll git jedgment ag’in me, ye Caroliny splinter, will ye?” yelled Mr. Gibson, with an oath.  “I’ll pay Bill Wilder the skins when I git ready, and all the pinhook lawyers in Washington County won’t budge me a mite.”