Indian and Scout: A Tale of the Gold Rush to California

by F. S. Brereton

A Great Acquittal

Let the reader imagine with what anxiety Jack and his friends watched the struggle between life and death taking place in the case of Tusker Joe. There were days and days when the man lay an inert mass, unconscious, and too weak to move. Days when it appeared as if each minute would prove his last. Then, when all seemed lost, the brigand's extraordinary vitality gave him strength to rally. He turned the corner, mended slowly, and was at length strong enough to speak.

"And now we kin move him ter the settlement," said the sheriff, who had been in almost daily attendance. He had, in fact, been a stanch friend to Jack and his mates, and had sent tents and provisions to them. "Once we have him and his comrade in the settlement, we'll get a couple of lawyers to come along with us, and we'll hold a sorter court, with witnesses ter take note of everything. In course he may refuse to speak. But Tusker aer on the long road. He's mended so far, but that hurt aer goin' ter prove fatal."

That, indeed, had been the opinion of the surgeon, who also had made more than one trip out to the temporary camp beside the mountain, where the last of the brigands had been run to earth.

"Shot through the chest," he declared grimly, "and may or may not make a recovery; but in any case it will be but temporary. My experience teaches me that the man's days are numbered."

However, Tusker improved to such an extent that it became possible to move him. He was taken in a cart to the settlement, his wounded mate riding with him. As for the latter, he was even more grievously hurt, and his life still hung in the balance.

"We might wait here a month and he be still the same," said the surgeon. "We will risk moving him. There is no other alternative."

All this while Jack had been careful to keep away from the injured men. He had ridden back to the mine to report to Tom and the others what had happened, and had found them industriously delving and washing dirt in the cradles. They declared to him that the yield was, if anything, improving, and that there seemed to be a wealth of the shining metal still to be regained.

"There ain't a doubt but what we've hit it rich," declared Tom the evening Jack arrived, "and ef we get the stuff ter the bank without meeting with any of the gentry as tried ter waylay you, we'll all have fortunes to our name. So you've got that man at last, Carrots? Don't you be downhearted. That Tusker will out with his evidence, and ye'll be cleared. They'll shout themselves hoarse when yer get back to Hopeville. Meanwhile me and the mates go on, and shares are divided same as before, so you, and Steve, and Tom, and Abe'll lose nothing. That's doin' things fair and square, same as we've always done."

When Jack got back to the settlement, where Tusker was being cared for, Steve greeted him eagerly.

"He'll talk, he will!" he cried. "I've been in ter see the man, and, I tell yer, he's changed. He reckons he's got the last call, and ain't much longer fer this world. He jest begged me ter overlook old days, and forgive him for what he's done. That bein' his mood, seems ter me as you'd best see him."

That very evening, in fact, the surgeon having been consulted, Jack was ushered into the little wooden shanty where the wounded brigand lay. He was propped up in bed, and our hero was shocked at his appearance. The man was desperately thin and cadaverous, while there were heavy lines under his eyes.

"Tusker," said Steve solemnly, "I've brought a young friend of mine ter see you, and afore yer take a look at him, or git talkin', I'd like to give you his history. Aer you game ter listen?"

The wounded man motioned Steve to a chair, and scarcely looked at our hero.

"Speak!" he said in a voice little above a whisper. "I will listen."

"Then, here's the yarn. Jack Kingsley aer the son of a man called Tom—Tom Kingsley, from New York State—known in the minin' camps a dozen years ago as 'Lord Tom'. He war shot in a saloon by one called——"

"Stop!" Tusker Joe's voice rose almost to a scream. "I know—I know the tale only too well. Believe me, mates, I would give the whole of my past life if I could undo what I have done. The memory of those crimes haunts me. And this is the son? I beg of him, I—I——"

"That's done with, mate," said Steve kindly. "Thar comes a day when every man, as he looks back, sees things as he might ha' done better, things that shame him and make him wince. Ef ye've turned, as I believe yer have, why, then, I reckon your sorrow aer downright genuine. Yer can't give Lord Tom's life back to his son, so we'll let the matter be a bygone. But thar's more to tell, Tusker; more as has ter do with your actions. Listen for a spell."

The little scout moistened his lips, and looked from Jack to the sick man. At any other time he would have despised himself for tormenting a poor wretch with such a tale, for torment the words he had uttered had been to Tusker. The man's drawn face showed it. It was cruel to persevere with the story, yet here, on this man's slender life, lay the success or failure of Jack's existence.

"Wall, you've got ter hear it," said the little hunter, as gently as he could, "fer Jack here ain't never done nothin' ter harm you. He's as clean and straight and plucky a young fellow as ever I met, and ef ye're true to yerself, Tusker, he'll be able ter go back home ter his friends, and hold his head up before the world. Tusker, thar was a man same as you came to a town called Hopeville, this many months back, and got a young smith ter forge a key, stuffin' him with some simple yarn. That young chap war Jack here. He got suspicious, and happened by chance ter discover that the man fer whom he'd made the key were about ter attempt a burglary with a mate. He followed them, got right inter the house, and then war set upon by a caretaker who took him fer one of the burglars. Jack here war floored, and then the caretaker war shot by the burglars, who got clear away. Wall, when the officer came, the man as war hurt declared that Jack war one of the gang, and then died right off. Thar warn't no one to clear Jack, no one ter prove as he wasn't one of the gang, and he war put up fer trial. He'd have had ten years' imprisonment ef he hadn't bolted, and ef he ever goes back east he's sure to be taken. Tusker, the man who come fer that key war you. You're the only one as kin clear Jack and set him on his legs agin."

It was a long speech. Steve had probably never before made such a lengthy one, and at the end he drew his hand across his forehead to wipe the perspiration away. Jack stepped into the centre of the room, where the light fell full upon him, while the sick man sat upright and stared eagerly into his face. Then he fell back wearily.

"Everywhar the tale is the same," he groaned. "I have indeed done miserably with my life. I acknowledge that I was that man. Show me how I kin help ter right the wrong I have done."

Waiting outside were the surgeon, the sheriff and two lawyers, besides a couple of independent witnesses, and Steve promptly ushered them in.

"He'll speak," he said. "He acknowledges all."

"Then we will get to business. See here, Tusker," said the sheriff kindly, taking the sick man's hand, "ye've got a real good chance ter do a good turn ter one ye've harmed. We've witnesses here. Tell us the tale of this burglary. Describe the place, the house, the rooms you entered, everything, in fact, that happened. Then, when the evidence is sent to Hopeville, thar won't be a shadow of doubt but that you war the man."

It took more than an hour to take down the evidence, and true to his word Tusker gave every detail. Sketches were drawn of the house from his directions, the name and address of the owner of the cart he had hired were forthcoming, while he was even able to give the name of the man who had received the goods he had stolen.

"And now," he said, more cheerfully, as if his action had taken some of the load from his mind, "I've heard that James Benson war the only other man of the gang caught alive, and that, like me, he ain't much longer fer this world. Wall, I said I'd do all I can. James war in that burglary too. Ef you want corroboration of the evidence, see him. Tell him I've spoken. Take his evidence separately. Thar won't, then, be a shadow of doubt."

The other man, who alone with Tusker had lived to be captured, promptly agreed to tell his story when he heard what his chief had done. And, as may be imagined, the sheriff and his witnesses very carefully entered every particular, getting the man to sign his confession just as Tusker had done.

"That's enough to clear a judge," said the sheriff, delight in his voice, when they had retired from the house. "Now, there's jest one more thing as the lawyers advise, and I agree with them that it would be well ef it war done. We'll call in two more sheriffs from the nearest townships, read this evidence over before them, and before Tusker and the man James, and then get them to attach their signatures and official seals. The expense will be trifling, and I'm sure havin' everythin' so up to date and orderly will prevent any little hitch arising. In course, ef it war possible, I'd say: Take Tusker and the other man right east with you to Hopeville. But that ain't ter be thought of. The journey would kill them."

A week later our hero set out for San Francisco, Steve and one of the lawyers accompanying him.

"It aer worth the expense," said Steve, when it was first suggested that a lawyer should be taken. "He'll be able ter prove the papers and the seals, and kin act as defence for yer. In course ye'll have ter surrender ter justice, and then apply fer bail. We'll draw some of our gains before movin'."

Two months later they arrived in Hopeville, and Jack nearly startled the kindly James Orring out of his senses when he suddenly appeared at the forge. James stared at him as if he were a ghost, gripped his hand, and then, sinking his voice, and looking hastily over his shoulder, drew his late apprentice into the back of the smithy.

"Glad, right glad to see yer, Jack," he said heartily; "but this aer rank foolishness. Thar's never a day passes but what Simpkins the constable gits nosing round here, as ef he expected ter suddenly find yer. He ain't been to-day. Guess he'll be about afore very long. Wall, what aer it? Short of money, lad?"

Jack laughed, and, dipping his hand into his pocket, pulled out a roll of dollar bills. "Thanks, no," he said, still smiling. "I've come to hand myself over to the constable, please. Will you send for him?"

It was a day of excitement for Hopeville, and for James and his wife in particular. Quick as a flash the news spread that the young smith who had made such a sensational escape from prison, and was being tried for burglary, had suddenly returned to face the justices. The rumour brought the pompous Simpkins bouncing along, and in a trice he had apprehended Jack.

"At last!" he cried in triumph. "Back you come to the jail."

"Stop, constable, I am a lawyer. I hold in this bag certain evidence of Mr. Jack Kingsley's innocence," exclaimed the lawyer, stepping forward. "My client hands himself over to the authorities of his own free will. We will walk to the office quietly, if you please."

The lawyer's air of authority, and Jack's obvious elation, cooled the ardour of the constable, and, seeing that recourse to harsh measures might lead him into trouble, he surlily agreed to accompany them to the station. Once there, Jack was placed in the dock, for the justices happened to be sitting; and within an hour he was set at liberty, on bail. There is no need to describe how he was again put on his trial, and how, within two days of its commencement, he was acquitted, and discharged, amid the cheers of the populace. Indeed, he was become a hero, for Steve's tongue had been wagging more than it had ever done before. The people of Hopeville knew now that the young smith was not only entirely innocent, but that he was a lad after the real heart of an American, and one of whom they ought to be proud. Moreover, he was rich. Yes, Jack was rich, and proved it; for when he set his face again for California he left James Orring and his wife comfortably housed in a place of their own, with a goodly sum to keep them, and a man installed in the smithy to help with the work. His mother and other friends had also tasted of his generosity, while the constable and he had buried the hatchet, and were become fast friends.

Jack returned with Steve to the mine in California, and, when it was sold, went back to New York State. But he did not idle his time away. He set up a number of smithies throughout the country, and managed them ably. When he was not travelling between one and another, he devoted all his time and energies to a special hobby. Recollecting his own strange and anxious experience, Jack studied the records of all criminal cases where the evidence had been contradictory and there seemed a possibility that an innocent man had been convicted. Expert lawyers and detectives advised him, and though he was not often successful, yet it is pleasant to have to relate that, now and again, in the course of years, he was able to bring relief to some poor fellow. Thus did he make good use of the gold he and Tom and the others had obtained in California. He married in due course, and lived to a fine old age. To-day there is no name held in higher esteem or remembered more kindly than that of Jack Kingsley.

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By CAPTAIN F. S. BRERETON

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