After a short time spent in examining the envelope—passed from hand to hand among the jurymen—the witness who has hinted at having something more to tell, is directed to continue his narration.
He proceeds to give an account of his suspicions—those that originally prompted him to seek for “sign” upon the prairie. He tells of the shot fired by Calhoun from the copse; of the chase that succeeded; and the horse trade that came after. Last of all, he describes the scene in the chapparal, where the Headless Horseman has been caught—giving this latest episode in all its details, with his own interpretation of it.
This done, he makes a pause, and stands silent, as if awaiting the Court to question him.
But the eyes of the auditory are no longer fixed upon him. They know that his tale is completed; or, if not so, they need no further testimony to guide their conclusions.
They do not even stay for the deliberations of the Court, now proceeding to sift the evidence. Its action is too slow for men who have seen justice so near being duped—themselves along with it; and—swayed by a bitter reactionary spirit—revenge, proceeding from self-reproach—they call loudly for a change in the programme.
The Court is assailed with the cries:—
“Let the Irishman go—he is innocent! We don’t want any farther evidence. We’re convinced of it. Let him go free!”
Such is the talk that proceeds from the excited spectators.
It is followed by other speeches equally earnest:—
“Let Cassius Calhoun be arrested, and put upon his trial! It’s he that’s done the deed! That’s why he’s shown so bitter against the other! If he’s innocent, he’ll be able to prove it. He shall have a fair trial; but tried he shall be. Come, judge; we’re waiting upon you! Order Mr Calhoun to be brought before the Court. An innocent man’s been there long enough. Let the guilty take his place!”