Mark Elwood, the last of the witnesses to be examined, then took the stand; and, contrary to what might have been expected from one of his wavering disposition, and particularly from one who had been so strangely kept under the influence and fear of the man on trial, bore himself resolutely under the menacing looks which the latter fixed upon him by way of intimidation. For some time he had utterly refused to harbor the idea of Gaut’s guilt. He believed the burning of the camp was accidental; that Gaut, in anticipation of the storm, had taken all the furs home with him, and would soon call the company together for the distribution. But when he heard of the course Gaut was taking, and coupled it with the other circumstances, he suddenly changed his tone, fell into the belief of his companions, and more loudly and openly than any of them denounced the crime and its author,—seemingly throwing off, at once and forever, the mysterious spell which had so long bound him. Accordingly he now swore confidently to the beaver-skin in question, as one of his own taking, and, facing him boldly, even went so far as to declare his full belief in Gaut’s guilt, not only in the burning of the camp, but in the stealing of the furs.
This gratuitous assertion of a mere matter of belief in the respondent’s guilt, which was no legal evidence in the case, at once aroused, as might have been expected, the ire of Gaut’s lawyer, who, with fierce denunciations of the conduct of the witness, subjected him to a severe cross-examination.
“What reason, then,” asked the somewhat mollified lawyer, now himself incautiously venturing on ground which, with a better knowledge of the parties, he would have seen might injure his cause, and on which his client evidently wished him not to push inquiries. “What reason, then, could you have for your extraordinary conduct in trying, against all rule, to lug in here your mere ungrounded conjectures, to prejudice the court and spectators against an innocent man?”
“Innocent?” here broke in Phillips, provoked by what, in his exasperated state of feeling, he viewed as the cool impudence and hypocrisy of the lawyer. “Innocent, hey? Well, well, there are various ways of lying in this world, I see plainly.”
“What do you know about my client, whom you are all conspiring to ruin?” exclaimed the excited lawyer, turning fiercely on the interposing hunter.
“Know about him?” retorted the other. “I know enough, besides this outrageous affair; I know enough to——”
“Beware!” suddenly exclaimed Gaut Gurley, with a look that brought the speaker to a stand.
“I don’t fear you, sir,” said the hunter, confronting the other with an unflinching countenance. “But you may be right; it may be I had better forbear; it may be your time is not yet come,” he added, in a low, significant tone.
“Now, I will finish with you, sir,” resumed Gaut’s lawyer turning again sternly to Elwood, from whom he—like many other over-acting attorneys, who cannot see where they should stop in examinations of this kind—seemed to think he could draw something more that would make for his client. “When that fellow interrupted me just now, I was asking what reason, besides some grudge or malice, you had for your unwarrantable course in pronouncing the respondent guilty, without proof; for, allowing the furs you swear to were once yours, you don’t show, by a single particle of proof, that he had any thing to do with it more than yourselves, who were quite as likely to have taken them as he. Yes, what reasons,—facts, facts, I mean; no more guess-work here; so speak out, sir, like an honest man, if you can.”
“I will, then,” promptly responded Elwood. “You shall have facts, to your heart’s content; I said what I did because I am convinced he is guilty.”