Lorimer of the Northwest

by Harold Bindloss

This was apparently the case, for when we read it together Martin Lorimer grew very red in the face, and at first I was divided between vexation and amusement. It ran as follows: “We have unwittingly cast suspicion on an innocent man, and for once an unprincipled informant has fooled us. The cattle-thief prosecutor has appeared, and will shortly present himself blushing before the public gaze. We have seen him, and can testify that instead of a Don Juan he is a Joseph, for there is an air of ingenuous innocence about him which makes it certain that he would crawl into a badger-hole if he met a pretty woman on the prairie. If further proof were wanted, he goes about in charge of a highly respectable British Crœsus, one of the full-crusted elderly models of virtue they raise in Lancashire. The class is not obsolete. We have seen one.”

Then, with whimsical directness, the following lines set forth the true state of the case, and I felt on the conclusion that the writer had not unskillfully reversed his previous unfavorable version. Martin Lorimer, however, signally failed to appreciate it, for the words obsolete and full-crusted stuck in his throat, and I had some difficulty in restraining him from returning forthwith to the newspaper offices. The journal eventually languished, and succumbed after some friction with the authorities when the editor left it to seek in the great republic a wider field for his talents, but before 298 this happened he paid us several friendly visits at Fairmead.

The trial, which excited public interest at the time, took place shortly afterward. It transpired that there were other charges of fraud against the pair of thieves, whose case was hopeless from the beginning, but the prosecution experienced some difficulty in obtaining evidence to connect Fletcher definitely with them, though several facts suggested that he had for some time acted as a tool in their hands. The court was crammed, and looking down on the sea of faces I could recognize a number of my neighbors from the Fairmead district and Carrington, and was not overjoyed to see them. An attempt to steal a large draft of cattle was an important event on the prairie. I should not have testified at all, could this have been avoided, which, however, was not the case, and I awaited with much anxiety the cross-examination for the defense, because my solicitor had warned me that as more latitude was generally allowed than in England an attempt would be made to arouse popular sympathy on behalf of Fletcher and shake my evidence by casting doubts on my character.

“Have you any animus against the prisoner Fletcher?” was the first question.

“No,” I answered. “Indeed, I was always anxious to befriend him until he robbed and slandered me.”

“Or his wife?” added the inquisitor. “I think you knew her in England. Is it not true that you took her from the service of a railroad hotel and found a house for her on the prairie?”

There was a murmur in the court, and objection was taken to this question by the prosecution, but I was directed to answer it, so I said as coolly as I could: “I did know her in England. She was clerk in my uncle’s mill, where Thomas Fletcher assisted the cashier. He was not married then. I took her from the service of the railroad hotel.” 299

“It is a damaging admission,” said my persecutor, and would have continued before I could finish the answer, but that there was a commotion below, which I hastened to profit by, adding, “But I brought her husband to meet her, and found him a situation in a creamery.”

“It is true, every word of it!” a shrill voice rose up, and the murmuring grew louder in the body of the court, while it pleased me to see that the riders of Carrington vied with our humbler neighbors in this sign of approval. Then some one sternly called “Silence!” and the examination commenced again.

“I must protest against friends of the witness coming here to create a disturbance,” said the barrister. “They are all owners of cattle, and accordingly filled with prejudice. This is a court of justice, and not a cow-boy’s tribunal under the laws of Lynch.”