AN UNEXPECTED WITNESS
The alcalde, the moment he saw that the mob spirit had been subdued, had returned quietly to his place behind the barrel; and, when the two boys again gave their attention to him, he had just reached his rude seat of judgment, and was about to speak.
"I knew," he said, as his keen eyes searched the faces of the men, who had so opportunely formed the cordon of safety around him and his court, "that I could depend on the good sense and fair-mindedness of the people of Sacramento City. We will now proceed with the trial," and he quietly slipped back both of his revolvers into his coat pockets.
"Once more," and the alcalde raised his voice so that all could hear, "the court asks, is there any other witness to bear testimony against the two prisoners, if so, let him now step forward."
For a minute or two the alcalde waited. There was no movement, no word from the surrounding crowd.
"We will now proceed with the examination of the prisoners. Young man, take your place on the witness stand," and the alcalde turned to Thure.
"Don't get excited. Keep cool," cautioned Bud, as Thure hastened to take his place in front of the barrel.
A hush came over the great encircling crowd, as Thure stood before the alcalde and was solemnly sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Many of those rough bearded men had sons of their own back at home, hardly younger than was the prisoner, who now stood before the bar of justice, with a rope dangling threateningly above his head; and these men found it hard to believe that that wholesome-looking, clear-eyed youth could be guilty of the atrocious crime charged against him. But, there was the evidence; and the laws of the city must be enforced; and their faces grew stern and sad.
Thure told his story in a clear straightforward way; told how he and Bud had gone out for a hunt on that day, how they had heard the death-cry of the unfortunate horse and had slain the huge grizzly, how, just after they had completed the skinning of the grizzly, they had seen the struggle of the old miner with his two assailants and had rushed to his rescue, how the robbers had fled, leaving the miner robbed and mortally stabbed, how they had endeavored to get him to their home before he died, but had failed, and, finally, how the miner had died and they had borne his dead body home and had buried it.
There was hardly a loud sound made while Thure was telling his story. One could almost have heard the great crowd breathing. When he had spoken of witnessing the struggle between the miner and his murderers and of rushing to his rescue, there had been a great stir in the crowd, but it had quickly subsided, so eager were all to hear every word that he uttered. His manner and his story made a deep impression; but, alas, it was soon seen that his evidence had introduced nothing to disprove the testimony of his two accusers that had any stronger proof back of it than his own word and the word of his fellow prisoner, while he had admitted bringing the dead body of the murdered miner home and burying it, admitted having the dead body of the miner in his possession. This, at least, was in direct proof of what his accusers had testified; for they had sworn that they had seen the two boys bear the dead body off with them. It looked as if they had made their story up to fit in with the accounts of the previous witnesses and yet disprove the story of their accusers.
Thure, so far in his testimony, had said nothing of the description the old miner had given of his murderers. He was saving that for the last, to be brought out by the questions of the alcalde, if possible. He wished to make it as emphatic and striking as possible, and yet he did not wish to appear to give it voluntarily; for he was wise enough to see that for him and Bud to accuse their accusers might re-act back on themselves. Fortunately the questions of the alcalde led directly to it.
"You testify," began the alcalde, the moment Thure had apparently completed his testimony, "that you drove the murderers away from the body of the miner. Did you get near enough to them to recognize them again, should you see them?"
"No," Thure answered. "I could only swear that one was a large man and that the other was small."
"Did you discover anything that would lead you to surmise who committed the crime?" again asked the alcalde.
"No, not directly," answered Thure hesitatingly. "But the old miner, just before he died, gave us a description of his two murderers," and he stopped.
"How did he describe them? Why do you hesitate?" asked the alcalde sharply.
"Because," answered Thure boldly, "the description the dying miner gave of his two murderers appears to make us accuse our accusers, as if we were trying to get back at them, when it is God's truth that we are uttering."
"Give us the description. We are the ones to judge of its merits," commanded the alcalde, his face flushing with interest, while the surrounding crowd became breathless.
Bud was looking at the two men; and he saw both of them start at the words of Thure and glance apprehensively into each other's eyes.
"The miner said," and Thure turned his eyes full upon Bill Ugger, "that one of his murderers was a large, red-headed man with a broken nose; and that the other," and his eyes turned to the face of Spike Quinley, "was a small man, with a pock-marked face."
For a moment no one spoke. All eyes were bent on the faces of the two men. There was no mistaking to whom the description applied. Then a harsh laugh broke from Bill Ugger.
"Tryin' to turn th' tables on us, be you?" and again he laughed. "Wal, I reckon, ever'one here believes that yarn. It fits tew pat, not tew be true. So me an' Spike are th' true murderers, be we? Wal, this is sum unexpected an' s'prisin', ain't it Spike?" and he turned to his comrade, grinning and glaring like a huge buffoon; but a close observer might have noticed that his skin had whitened beneath its red beard.
Quinley had started perceptibly at Thure's description of the miner's murderers, but he had quickly controlled himself, and a deadly gleam had come into his wicked little eyes and his thin lips had tightened, as, unperceived by all eyes, except the eyes the movement was intended for, he had turned and given a man standing in the edge of the circle a signal. The man at once had slipped back in the crowd and vanished.
"Powerful s'prisin'," and Quinley turned and grinned back into the face of Ugger. "I reckon you can already feel th' rope a-tightenin' 'round y'ur neck, can't you, Bill? That description sart'in fits us as pat as an old shoe. But th' s'prisin'est thing 'bout it all is, that I don't 'pear tew have any rekerlections of a-committin' that murder. Must have ben dreamin', when I done it."
The eyes of the alcalde, during this brief byplay, had been closely watching the faces of the two men. He now turned to Thure again.
"Have you any witnesses, other than your fellow prisoner, to testify to the truth of your statements?" he asked.
"No," answered Thure; "except that our mothers and our sisters and the folks at the rancho can testify to our bringing home the body of the dead miner and that we told them that we had found him just as I have said that we did."
"That would prove nothing as to who committed the murder. Is there anyone in Sacramento City that knows either of you two boys?"
"No," again answered Thure. "Not that I know of, unless," and his face brightened, "Captain Sutler is here. He knows both of us well. We are expecting to find our dads at Hangtown."
"Captain Sutter is not here," answered the alcalde, "as anyone in the city might have told you; and it is impossible to send to Hangtown after your fathers."
"But, are we to be proven guilty on the evidence of those two men alone, whom I am almost certain committed the crime themselves?" and Thure's face flushed indignantly. "Is not our word, at least, as good as theirs?"
"Young man," replied the alcalde sternly, "that is for the jury to decide. Have you any further evidence to give? If not, and the jury do not wish to ask you any questions," he paused and glanced toward the foreman, who shook his head, "you are dismissed, and the other prisoner can take his place on the witness stand."
For a moment Thure hesitated. He wanted to say something, to do something to further disprove this horrible accusation—but, what could he say or do that he had not already said or done? He had told his story. There was nothing more for him to tell, nothing more for him to do; and, with tightly compressed lips, he turned and walked from the witness stand back to his place by the side of the sheriff, while Bud took his place in front of the barrel.
There was nothing new in Bud's testimony. He could only repeat, in different words, what Thure had already told.
While Bud was giving his testimony, Spike Quinley worked his way up close to Thure; and again a piece of paper was slipped furtively into his hand.
Thure glanced down at the paper. At least here was a chance to escape the worst. If Bud did not make a better impression than he apparently had, then there would be nothing left but to surrender the map, that or hanging. And it must be done soon now, or it would be too late. Thure shuddered at the thought of the hanging; and, with fingers that trembled a little, cautiously opened the paper and read these dreadful words:
You have gone and done it now you infernal idjit by testifin' agin us it is now yur necks or ourn al hel kant save you now you kan keep the map and we wil git it off yur ded bodies and you kan have the satisfackshun of noin that you might have ben alive and wel when yur danglin ded at the end of a rope.
The vindictive scrawl closed with a rude attempt to draw a rope, hanging from a tree, with a man dangling from one end.
Thure stared blankly at the paper for a moment after he had read the words that appeared to close their last avenue of escape. He saw clearly the force of their meaning. It had, indeed, now become a battle for life between him and Bud and their two accusers. Their testimony, once they were free, would turn suspicion directly upon Quinley and Ugger. It would be suicidal for the two men now to attempt to do anything to free them. Thure raised his eyes and looked wildly around, at the face of the alcalde, the faces of the jury, and the faces of the surrounding crowd. On all was a look of ominous sadness and sternness that made his heart sink. Evidently the words and the actions of the cunning Ugger and the crafty Quinley had again completely turned the tide against them. But the worst blow was yet to come.
Bud completed his testimony and, in an ominous silence, was dismissed. The alcalde arose from his judgment-stump and turned to address a few final words to the jury; but, as the first word left his mouth, a commotion occurred in the crowd directly in front of him.
"More testimony! Important testimony!" shouted a voice; and a man, with his right arm done up in a sling, pushed his way through the encircling crowd.
The man hastily and keenly scrutinized the faces of the two prisoners.
"Yes, them's sart'inly th' fellers," he said aloud; and turned his eyes on the faces of their accusers.
"Them's shore th' same two men I seed. Thar's no mistaking them faces," he declared, with conviction. "Now," and he turned to the alcalde, "I asks y'ur pardon, y'ur honor; but, bein' sum crippled with a broken arm, as you can see, an', on that account, keepin' sum close in my tent, I heared nuthin' of this trial 'til jest a few minits ago; but, when I did hear of it, I felt mortally sart'in that it had tew do with th' same murder that I witness in th' Sacermento Valley three days ago; an', wantin' tew see that justice made no mistake, I got here as quick as I could, tew give in my testimony. Hope I'm not tew late," and he fixed his eyes anxiously on the face of the alcalde.
"No; you are not too late," the alcalde answered, looking at the man keenly, "if your evidence is of real importance."
"I reckon it is of real importance," answered the man, "seein' that I saw th' killin' done with my own two eyes; an' was close enough tew reckernize th' killers plain."
This statement caused a big sensation in the surrounding crowd. All pressed nearer, and stretched their heads eagerly forward to get a sight of this new witness, while, "Hush!" "Quiet!" "Shut your mouth!" and like expressions, came from all around the crowding circle of men.
Thure and Bud had both started with pleased surprise at the words of this unexpected witness, and their faces lighted up with hope. Here, at last, was a witness who would tell the truth, who would free them from this horrible accusation of murder; for, evidently by his actions, he was as much of a stranger to Ugger and Quinley as he was to themselves, and, consequently, he could not be in league with their two cunning and mendacious accusers. They glanced at the two men. Their surprise appeared to be real; and the two boys thought they detected a look of fearful consternation on each face.
"Step forward and be sworn," commanded the alcalde, the moment the buzz of the excitement caused by the words of the man with the broken arm had ceased.
The man stepped quickly in front of the barrel; and was sworn, in the same manner the other witnesses had been sworn, to tell the truth.
"What is your name and business?" demanded the alcalde.
"John Skoonly," replied the man; "an' I'm bound for th' diggin's. Jest got in from San Francisco this mornin'."
"Now, John Skoonly," and the alcalde's eyes rested steadily on the witness's face as he settled back on his stump, "kindly tell the jury and the people gathered here, what you know of the case now being tried before them."
"I was on my way from San Francisco tew here," began the witness, "when three days ago I wandered off th' main trail tew do a little huntin' an' was throwed by my hoss an' broke my right arm. That took all th' hunt out of me; an' I laid down under sum trees that growed 'long side a crik tew try an' do sumthin' tew ease up th' pain an' tew git a little rest afore I started back for th' trail.
"Wal, I reckon I hadn't ben thar more'n half an hour, when I heared a screech that fairly lifted my hat off my head, a-comin' from th' open valley, jest beyont th' trees whar I was a-lyin' in th' shade, an' a-soundin' like sum feller was gittin' hurt mortal bad. I jumps up quick an' runs tew sum bushes that growed a-treen me an' th' sound, an' looks through 'em, a little cautious-like on account of my broken arm, an' seed three men a-strugglin' on th' ground not more'n forty rods from whar I was; an' th' next I knowed I heared a lot of yellin', an' seen tew men jump out of th' bushes sum twenty rods below me, an' start runnin' for them fightin' men. But, afore they'd made a dozen jumps, tew of them men springs up from th' ground, th' other man didn't 'pear tew have any spring left in him, but lay still, grabs up their rifles an' hollers tew them runnin' men tew stop sudden, or they'd shoot; an' th' men stops sudden, they havin' only pistols. Then th' tew men with rifles yells for them tew git an' git quick, an' one on 'em fires his rifle; an', I reckon, th' bullet must have come close, for th' tew men whirled 'bout like they was sum scart an' started back for th' bushes.
"Th' tew men now picks up th' body of th' third man, which hangs limp like he was dead, an' flings it across th' back of one of their hosses an' ties it thar. Then they mounts th' other tew hosses an' goes a-ridin' off a-leadin' the hoss with th' dead body across its back ahind 'em; an' in ridin' off, they comes within a dozen rods of whar I was a-hidin', an' I sees 'em plain, an' I was s'prised tew see that they didn't look tew be much more'n boys; an' yit they 'peared tew have killed a man!
"Y'ur honor," and the man paused and whirled partly around, and when he continued again his voice was very solemn, "as shore as thar is a God in heaven, th' tew men that I saw a-ridin' by me, with that dead body on th' hoss ahind them, are a-standin' right thar!" and he pointed straight toward Thure and Bud.
A sound of horror and of rage went up from the surrounding crowd, a sound that had the promise of dreadful things to come in it.
The alcalde leaped to his feet, his face looking white and drawn; for he knew that now the two boys were doomed, and, somehow, in spite of all the terrible evidence, he could not look into their clear-eyed faces and believe them guilty of such a horrible crime.
"Silence! Silence, men!" he commanded, stretching out both of his hands imperatively. "Silence! I have questions, important questions to ask the witness."
Almost instantly the great crowd became still, so anxious were all now to hear every word.
"John Skoonly," and the alcalde turned to the witness, "you swear that you saw two men start to the rescue of the murdered man. Did you see these two men plainly enough to recognize them should you see them again?"
"Sart'in'," replied the man promptly, and, whirling about, he pointed to Quinley and Ugger, "Thar they stand. I'd know them mugs ag'in anywhar," and he grinned.
"Why," continued the alcalde, "did you not make your presence known to these two men, at least after the murderers had ridden off? There would not have been any danger then," and he smiled scornfully; "and they might have been of help to you in your crippled condition."
"Wal," answered the man frankly, turning and looking squarely into the faces of Ugger and Quinley, "tew be honest, I didn't like th' looks of them tew faces none tew much; an', as I had consider'ble of money 'long with me, I reckoned 'twould be safer for me tew travel alone jest then, so I jest sneaked out 'tother side of th' trees an' rode back tew th' trail alone."
Quinley and Ugger scowled at this frank reference to their looks; and a few in the encircling crowd laughed grimly. Plainly there could be no collusion between this witness and Ugger and Quinley; and this apparent fact gave almost the positiveness of proven truth to his testimony, in the eyes of the crowd.
"Then," and the alcalde looked sharply into the face of the witness, "you never saw either William Ugger or Spikenard Quinley, until you saw them, as described in your testimony, on the day of the murder?"
"If y'ur meanin' that little pock-marked runt an' that big red-readed feller with a smashed nose, a-standin' thar, I sart'inly never did see them afore that identickle moment. Why, I didn't even know their names 'til you spoke 'em out."
Again some of the crowd laughed in a grim sort of a way; and again Ugger and Quinley scowled and glared wrathfully at the frank-spoken witness.
"I am done," the alcalde said quietly, turning to the jury. "Do you, gentlemen of the jury, wish to ask the witness any questions?"
"No," replied the foreman, after a glance into the faces of his fellow jurymen. "Your questions have brought out the only points we wished to inquire about."
"Do the prisoners wish to ask the witness any questions?" and the alcalde turned to Thure and Bud.
For a moment neither boy spoke, neither boy moved. The testimony of this witness, so different from what they had expected, had dumfounded them. They felt that he had knocked the last prop out from under their safety; and all the horrors of their situation had dropped down on their spirits with crushing, numbing force. Their minds, their nerves, their very muscles were paralyzed, for the moment, by the sudden and awful realization that now they must hang, must hang for a crime committed by others!
But a boy at eighteen can never be long absolutely without hope. Surely, surely the jury, the alcalde must see that this witness had lied, that all the witnesses against them had lied! They could not, they could not bring in a verdict of guilty! They could not sentence them, Thure Conroyal and Bud Randolph, to be hanged! Hanged! The thought stung them into life; and Thure turned wildly to the alcalde.
"It's a lie! a lie!" he cried. "It is all a lie! They know it is a lie! You surely must believe us! We did not kill the miner! We tried to save him! In spite of all their lies, you must believe us! We are only two boys, two boys without a friend to help us! We can not fight against their cunning! It is our word against their word! Look at us! Look into our faces! Do we look like boys who would kill a man? Look into the faces of our accusers! Think, we have fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters! Oh, you can not hang us, you can not hang us! You must believe us!"
"My boy," there was a solemn sternness in the voice of the alcalde as he spoke, "if you are guiltless of the crime charged against you, then, may God have mercy on us and on you! But I, the jury, the men gathered here can only judge of your guilt or innocence by the evidence presented before us; and, according to that evidence, and not according to the dictates of hearts that may be touched by your youth and seeming innocence, must the verdict be rendered. Gentlemen of the jury," and he turned to the jury, "the evidence has now all been laid before you; and it now becomes your duty to determine the guilt or the innocence of the prisoners. May the great God of justice and mercy direct your judgment aright; and cause you to bring in a verdict in accordance with the real truth!"