"I am aware of that," said Bradford, hurriedly; "and although you are and have been the only man in the mines suspected, we folks here are determined that no innocent person shall suffer upon mere suspicion and under the excitement of the moment; we are also determined that no guilty party—or parties, if there should be more than one person implicated—shall escape the swift, summary punishment the hellish acts deserve. We have no organized courts here, but organize them as we need them ourselves. No mere technicality will save a rascal either, as it does sometimes in what are called civilized communities."
"Tom Bradford," continued Jack, "you nor no one else hez ever seen me a-loafin' roun' saloons, nor gamblin'-hells; an' no one hain't never seen me drunk nuther—hev they? I knows my looks is agin me; but looks hain't nothin', nor no judge ter go by. I hain't no harnsome man—never sot any claim ter sich. I oncet tuk ther prize fer grinnin' through a hoss-collar, at er county fair way back in old Kaintuk, w'en I war young."
At this admission a change that was evidently intended for a smile suddenly crept over Jack's face as he opened his ponderous jaws; but the effect made his cavernous mouth, which literally stretched from ear to ear, look as if it had been made by a broadax at a blow.
"Waal," he continued, as the paroxysm caused by the remembrance of his youth passed off, "I hev been doin' some detective work myself; an' w'at I hev diskivered is w'at hez brung me hyar ter talk ter ye 'bout. It war all a accident, though; an' ef it hedn't 'a' been fer thet thar ornery dorg o' mine, I wouldn't er foun' out nothin'. You-uns'll all be surprised ez I wuz, w'en ye kim ter larn who ther murd'rer for sartin is. In ther fust place, I knowed them folkses ez war missin' never got pas' my cabin"——
Bradford looked Jack suddenly in the eye, as if to catch the true meaning of his last assertion; but Jack, seeing that he was misunderstood, became a little heated, and in a most emphatic manner said:
"Never reached thar, Tom Bradford, ez I wants ye ter onderstand! Now I wants yer ter tell me," he continued, getting more excited, "how many cabins—whar folkses lives, I means; 'course thar's lots o' 'bandoned ones—'twixt Whoopin' Holler an' mine?"
"Well," replied Bradford, in response to Jack's interrogatory, "there are but two—Cal. Jones's and Ike Podgett's. Why?"
"Don't yer see, Tom Bradford, ef them ez is missin' never got ter my cabin, they never got by one o' them t'others?"
"What do you mean?" asked Bradford, looking up excitedly into Jack's face.
"I means jes' w'at I says," replied Jack, gazing as earnestly now into Bradford's. "Ef er man leaves Whoopin' Holler fer Sandy Bar, he kain't git offen ther trail, kin he? Thar hain't but one trail, is thar? An' ef he don't kim back, an' don't go ahead, he mus' 'a' stopped somewhar 'twixt ther two places, mus'n't he? An' ef he haint heerd of fer a long while, he mus' hev stopped fer good, eh? Now do yer understan', Tom Bradford?" and Jack emphasized his remarks by bringing down his huge fist like a sledgehammer on top of the rickety old table right in front of Bradford.