“Well,” she said, “Mr. Wiggin come to the fence while we-all was eatin' our breakfast, an' called Danny out an' they had a talk near the cow-lot. I don't know what was said, but I was sorry they got together for Mr. Wiggin always upset Danny an' started 'im to drinkin' and rantin' agin Mr. Dwight here in town.”
She paused a moment, and then Garner, leaning easily on the back of his chair, said, encouragingly: “All right, Mrs. Willis, you are doing very well. Now, just go ahead and tell the court all that took place to the best of your recollection.”
“Well, thar wasn't much to recollect that happened right thar at home,” the witness went on, plaintively; “of course, the shootin' tuck place about a mile from thar on the—”
“Pardon me, Mrs. Willis,” Garner interrupted. “You are getting the cart before the horse. I want you to tell his honor how your son acted when he came into the house after his talk with Mr. Wiggin.”
“Why, when Danny fust come in, Mr. Garner, he went to the bureau drawyer and tuck out his revolver an' loaded it thar before us, cussin' at every breath agin Mr. Dwight. I tried to calm 'im down, an' so did my brother George, but he was as nigh crazy as I ever saw any human bein' in my life. He said he was goin' straight to Darley an' kill Carson Dwight, if he had to go to his daddy's house an' drag 'im out of his bed. He said he'd tried it once an' slipped up, but that if he missed again he'd kill hisse'f in disgust.”
“I see, I see,” Garner said, in the pause that ensued. He stroked his smooth chin with his tapering fingers and opened and shut his mouth, and he kept his eyes on the ceiling as if the witness had made the most ordinary sort of statement. He leaned again on the back of his chair, and then lowering his glance to the face of the witness, he asked: “Did you gather from Dan's talk that morning, Mrs. Willis, when it was that he made the first attempt on the life of Carson Dwight?”
“Well, I don't know as I did then,” the woman answered; “but he told us about it the day after he fired the shot.”
“Oh, he did!” Garner's face was still a study of guileless indifference, and he stroked his chin again, his eyes now on the floor, his arms folded across his breast. “What day was that, Mrs. Willis?”
“Why, the day after Mr. Dwight kept the mob from hangin' old Lindy Warren's boy.”
Profound astonishment was now visible on every countenance except that of Garner. “I never knew positively before who fired that shot,” he said, carelessly, “though, of course, I had an idea who did it. So Dan admitted that?”