THE THING THEY CALLED JUSTICE
Jack stared meditatively across at the young fellow sitting hunched
upon another of the boxes that were the seats in this tent-jail, which
was also the courtroom of the Vigilance Committee, and mechanically
counted the slow tears that trickled down between the third and fourth
fingers of each hand. A half-hour spent so would have rasped the
nerves of the most phlegmatic man in the town, and Jack was not
phlegmatic; fifteen minutes of watching that silent weeping sufficed
to bring a muffled explosion.
"Ah, for God's sake, brace up!" he gritted. "There's some hope for
you--if you don't spoil what chance you have got, by crying around
like a baby. Brace up and be a man, anyway. It won't hurt any worse if
you grin about it."
The young fellow felt gropingly for a red-figured bandanna, found it
and wiped his face and his eyes dejectedly. "I beg your pardon for
seeming a coward," he apologized huskily. "I got to thinking about
my--m-mother and sisters, and--"
Jack winced. Mother and sisters he had longed for all his life. "Well,
you better be thinking how you'll get out of the scrape you're in," he
advised, with a little of Bill Wilson's grimness. "I'm afraid I'm to
blame, in a way; and yet, if I hadn't mixed into the fight, you'd
be dead by now. Maybe that would have been just as well, seeing how
things have turned out," he grinned. "Still--have a smoke?"
"I never used tobacco in my life," declined the youth somewhat primly.
"No, I don't reckon you ever did!" Jack eyed him with a certain amount
of pitying amusement. "A fellow that will come gold-hunting without a
gun to his name, would not use tobacco, or swear, or do anything that
a perfect lady couldn't do! However, you put up a good fight with your
fists, old man, and that's something."
"I'd have been killed, though, if you hadn't shot when you did. They
were too much for me. I haven't tried to thank you--"
"No, I shouldn't think you would," grinned Jack. "I don't see yet
where I've done you any particular favor: from robbers to Vigilance
Committee might be called an up-to-date version of 'Out of the
frying-pan into the fire.'"
The boy glanced fearfully toward the closed tent-flaps. "Ssh!" he
whispered. "The guard can hear--"
"Oh, that's all right," returned Jack, urged perhaps to a conscious
bravado by the very weakness of the other. "It's all day with me,
anyway. I may as well say what I think.
"And so--" He paused to blow one of his favorite little smoke rings
and watch it float to the dingy ridge-pole, where it flickered and
faded into a blue haze "--and so, I'm going to say right out in
meeting what I think of this town and the Committee they let measure
out justice. Justice!" He laughed sardonically. "Poor old lady, she
couldn't stop within forty miles of Perkins' Committee if she had
forty bandages over her eyes, and both ears plugged with cotton!
You wait till their farce of a trial is over. You may get off, by a
scratch--I hope so. But unless Bill Wilson--"
"Aw, yuh needn't pin no hopes on Bill Wilson!" came a heavy, malicious
voice through the tent wall. "All hell can't save yuh, Jack Allen!
You've had a ride out to the oak comin' to yuh for quite a while, and
before sundown you'll get it."
"Oh! Is that so, Shorty? Say, you're breaking the rules, you old
pirate; you're talking to the prisoners without permission. As the
Captain's most faithful dog Tray, you'd better shoot yourself; it'll
save the town the trouble of hanging you later on!" He smoked calmly
while Shorty, on guard without, growled a vilifying retort, and the
other guards snickered.
"Ah, brace up!" he advised his quaking companion again. "If my company
doesn't damn you beyond all hope, you may get out of the scrape. You
didn't have a gun, and you're a stranger and haven't said naughty
things about your neighbors. Cheer up. Life looks just as good to me
as it does to you. I love this old world just as well as any man that
ever lived in it, and I'm not a bit pleased over leaving it--any more
than you are. But I can't see where I could better matters by letting
myself get wobbly in the knees. I'm sorry I didn't make a bigger fight
to keep my guns, though. I'd like to have perforated a few more of our
most worthy Committee before I quit; our friend Shorty, for instance,"
he stipulated wickedly and clearly, "and the Captain."
If he were deliberately trying to goad Shorty to further profanity,
the result should have satisfied him. The huge shadow of Shorty moving
back and forth upon the front wall of the tent, became violently
agitated and developed a gigantic arm that waved threateningly over
the ridge pole. The other guards laughed and checked their laughter
with a suddenness which made Jack's eyes leave the dancing shadow and
seek questioningly the closed tent flaps.
"If I'm any good at reading signs, we are now about to be tried by our
peers--twelve good men and true," he announced ironically. "Brace up,
old man! The chances are you'll soon be out of this mess and headed
for home. Don't be afraid to tell the truth--and don't act scared;
they'll take that as a sure sign you've got a guilty conscience. Just
keep a stiff upper lip; it won't take long; we do things in a hurry,
out here!"
"Say, you're a brick, Mr. Allen!" the boy burst out, impulsively
gripping the hand of his champion.
Jack jerked his hand away--not unkindly, but rather as if he feared to
drop, even for an instant, his flippant defiance of the trick fate had
played him. The jerk sent a small, shining thing sliding down to the
floor; where it stood upright and quivered in the soft sand.
"Lord!" he ejaculated under his breath, snatching it up as a thief
would snatch at his spoils. He looked fearfully at the closed flaps,
outside which the trampling of many feet sounded closer and closer;
and with a warning shake of his head at the other, slid the dagger
into his sleeve again, carefully fastening the point in the stout hem
of the buckskin.
"You never can tell," he muttered, smiling queerly as he made sure the
weapon was not noticeable.
He was rolling another cigarette when the Captain parted the tent
flaps and came stooping in, followed by twelve men of the Committee
who were to be the jury, and as many spectators as could crowd after
them.
"Gentlemen, be seated," the Captain invited formally, and motioned the
jury to the crude bunks that lined one side of the large tent. Jack
and the boy he moved farther from the entrance, and took up his own
position where his sharp eyes commanded every inch of the interior and
where the gun which he drew from its holster and rested upon his knee
could speak its deadly rebuke to any man there if, in the upholding of
justice, the Captain deemed it necessary.
The jury shuffled to their places, perched in a row upon the edge of
the bunks and waited silently, their eyes fixed expectantly upon their
Captain. The crowd edged into the corners and along the sides, their
hat crowns scraping the canvas roof as they were forced closer to the
low wall.
The Captain waited until the silence was a palpable thing made alive
by the rhythmic breathing of the men who were to look upon this new
travesty of justice.
"Gentlemen," he said at last, his sonorous voice carrying his words
distinctly to the crowd without, "we are now ready to proceed with the
investigation. I wish to state, for the information of those present,
that after the prisoners were placed here under guard, I went to get a
statement from the wounded man, Mr. Texas Bill. I found him dying
from a wound inflicted upon his person by a pistol ball which passed
through his left lung, above and to the right of his heart. I did not
take a written statement, for lack of time and writing materials. But
Texas swore--"
"Yeah--I'll bet he swore!" commented Bill Wilson under his breath.
Every one looked toward Bill, standing just inside the flaps, and the
Captain scowled while he waited for attention.
"Texas swore that he was shot by one of the prisoners, Jack Allen by
name, who fired upon him without due provocation, while he was talking
to this other prisoner, whose name we have yet to learn. Texas stated
that Allen, appearing suddenly from behind some bushes, began shooting
with deadly intent and without warning, wantonly murdering Rawhide
Jack, who lies dead in Smith's back room, and shooting him, Texas,
through the lung. He also stated that Mr. Dick Swift was with him and
Rawhide Jack, and was also shot by the prisoner, Jack Allen, without
cause or provocation.
"They had met the stranger and were standing talking to him about his
luck in the diggin's. This stranger, who is the other prisoner,
was inclined to be sassy, and made a pass at Rawhide with his fist,
telling him to mind his own business and not ask so many questions.
Rawhide struck back; and Allen, coming out from behind some bushes,
began shooting."
The Captain stopped and looked calmly and judicially from face to face
in the crowd.
"That, gentlemen, is the statement made to me by Texas Bill, who
now lies dead in Pete's Place as a result of the wound inflicted by
Allen."
"That's a lot of swearing for a man to do that's been shot through the
lungs," commented Bill Wilson skeptically.
The Captain gave him a malevolent look and continued. "We will ask
Mr. Swift to come forward and tell us what he knows of this deplorable
and, if I may be permitted the term, disgraceful affair."
Mr. Swift edged his way carefully through the crowd with his left arm
thrust out to protect the right, which was bandaged and rested in a
blood-stained sling. He asked permission to sit down; kicked a box
into the small, open space between the Captain, the jury, and the
prisoners, and seated himself with the air of a man about to perform
an extremely painful duty.
"Hold up your right hand," commanded the Captain.
Swift apologetically raised his left hand and gazed steadfastly into
the cold, impartial eyes of his Captain.
"You swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing
but the truth, so-help-you-God?"
Swift, his purplish eyes wide and clear and honest as the gaze of a
baby, calmly affirmed that he did.
Jack grinned and lazily fanned the smoke of his cigarette away, so
that he might the better gaze upon this man who was about to tell
the whole truth and nothing else. He caught Swift's eye and added
a sneering lift to the smile; and Swift's eyes changed from bland
innocence to hate triumphant.
"Mr. Swift, you will now relate to us the circumstances of this
affair, truthfully, in the order of their happening," directed the
deep voice of the Captain.
Mr. Swift carefully eased his wounded arm in its sling, turned his
innocent gaze upon the crowd, and began:
"Texas, Rawhide, and myself were crossing the sandy stretch south of
town about noon, when we met this chap--the stranger there." He nodded
slightly toward the boy. "I was walking behind the other two, but I
heard Rawhide say: 'Hello, son, any luck in the diggin's?' The kid
said: 'None of your damn business!' That made Rawhide kinda mad, being
spoke to that way when he just meant to be friendly, and he told the
kid he better keep a civil tongue in his head if he wanted to get
along smooth--or words to that effect. I don't," explained Mr. Swift
virtuously, "remember the exact words, because I was looking at the
fellow and wondering what made him so surly. He sassed Rawhide again,
and told him to mind his own business and give advice when it was
asked for, and struck at him. Rawhide hit back, and then I heard a
shot, and Rawhide fell over. I looked around quick, and started
to pull my gun, but a bullet hit me here--" Mr. Swift laid gentle
finger-tips upon his arm near the shoulder--"so I couldn't. I saw it
was Jack Allen shooting and coming towards us from a clump of bushes
off to the right of us. He shot again, and Texas Bill fell. I ducked
behind a bush and started for help, when I met the Captain and a few
others coming out to see what was the matter. That," finished Mr.
Swift, "is the facts of the case, just as they happened."
The Captain waited a minute or two, that the "facts" might sink deep
into the minds of the listeners.
"Were any shots fired by any one except Allen?" he asked coldly, when
the silence was sufficiently emphasized.
"There were not. Nobody," Swift flashed with a very human resentment,
"had a chance after he commenced!" He flushed at the involuntary
tribute to the prowess of his enemy, when he saw that maddening
grin appear again on Jack's lips; a grin which called him liar and
scoundrel and in the same flicker defied him.
The investigation took on the color of a sensation at that point,
when the stranger sprang suddenly to his feet and stood glaring at the
witness. There were no signs now of tears or weakness; he was a man
fighting for what he believed to be right and just.
"Captain, that man is a dirty liar!" he cried hotly. "He and his
precious cronies tried to rob me, out there. I was coming into town
from across the bay; I had hired a Spaniard to bring me across in a
small sailboat, and the tide carried us down too far, so I told him to
land and I'd walk back to town, rather than tack back. And these men
met me, and tried to rob me! This man," he accused excitedly, pointing
a rageful finger at Swift, "was going to stab me in the throat when
he saw I resisted. I was fighting the three, and they were getting
the best of me. I never owned a gun, and I just had my fists. The two
others had grabbed me, and this man Swift pulled a knife. I remember
one of them saying: 'Don't shoot--it'll bring the whole town out!'
And just as this one raised his knife to drive it into my throat--they
were bending me backwards, the other two--I heard a shot, and this one
dropped his knife and gave a yell. There were two other shots, and
the two who were holding me dropped. This one ran off. Then--" The boy
turned and looked down at Jack, smoking his cigarette and trying to
read what lay behind the stolid stare of the twelve men who sat in
a solemn row on the bunks opposite him. "This young man--" His lips
trembled, and he stopped, to bite them into a more manlike firmness.
"Gentlemen, do what you like with me, but you've got to let this man
go! He's the coolest, bravest man I ever saw! He saved my life. You
can't hang him for protecting a man from murder and robbery!"
"Young man," interrupted the Captain after a surprised silence, "we
admire your generosity in trying to clear your fellow prisoner, but
you must let this jury try his case. What's your name?"
"John Belden, of Cambridge, Massachusetts." The young fellow's rage
faded to a sullen calm under the cold voice.
The Captain made a startled movement and looked at him sharply. "And
what was your hurry to get to town?" he asked, after a minute.
"I wanted to get a ticket on the boat, the _Mary Elizabeth_, that is
going to leave for New York to-morrow. I wanted to go--home. I've had
enough of gold-hunting!" Youthful bitterness was in his tone and in
the look he turned on the jury.
The Captain cleared his throat. When he spoke again, he addressed the
twelve before him:
"Gentlemen of the jury, I have reasons for feeling convinced that
this young man is in part telling the truth. I am acquainted with his
father, unless he has given a name he does not own--and his face is
a pretty good witness for him; he looks like his dad. While he has
undoubtedly glossed and warped the story of the shooting in a mistaken
effort to make things look better for the man who did the killing, I
can see no sufficient reason for holding him. This Committee stands
for justice and is not backward about tempering it with mercy.
Gentlemen of the jury, I recommend that John Belden be released from
custody and permitted to go home. He was unarmed when I took him, and
there is no evidence of his having dealt anything but hard words to
the victims of the shooting. Gentlemen, you will give your verdict;
after which we will proceed with the investigation."
The jury looked at one another and nodded to the man on the end of
the first bunk; and he, shifting a quid of tobacco to the slack of his
right cheek, expectorated gravely into the sand and spoke solemnly:
"The verdict of the jury is all in favor of turnin' the kid loose."
"John Belden, you are released. And we'd advise you to be a little
careful how you sass men in this country. Also, you better see about
that ticket on the _Mary Elizabeth_. Jack Allen, you may come forward
and take the oath."
"This box is just as comfortable as that one," said Jack, "and you
needn't worry but what I'll tell the truth!" He took a last pull at
his cigarette, pinched out the fire, and ground the stub under his
heel. He could feel the silence grow tense with expectancy; and when
he lifted his eyes, he knew that every man in that tent was staring
into his face.
"I used to believe," he began clearly, "in the Vigilantes. If I had
been here when the first Committee was formed, I'd have worked for it
myself. I believe it cleared the town of some of the worst scoundrels
in the country, and that's saying a good deal. But--"
"The Committee," interrupted the Captain, "would like to hear your
story of the shooting. Your private opinions can wait until the
investigation of that affair is ended."
"You're right. I beg your pardon for forgetting that it is not settled
yet!" Jack's voice was politely scornful. "Well, then, this kid told
the truth in every particular, even when he declared that Dick Swift
is a dirty liar. Swift is a liar. He's also a thief, and he's also a
murderer--and a few other things not as decent!
"As to the row, I was walking out that way, when I saw this kid coming
up from the bay toward the town. The three, Swift, Rawhide Jack, and
Texas Bill, met him where the--er--trouble took place. I was too far
off to hear what was said; in fact, I didn't pay any attention much,
till I saw the kid struggling to get away. I walked towards them then.
It was easy enough to see that it was a hold-up, pure and simple. I
was about fifty yards from them when I saw Swift, here, raise a knife
to jab it into the boy's throat. Texas and Rawhide were both holding
the kid's arms and bending him backwards so he couldn't do anything.
When I saw the knife, I began to shoot." His eyes sought those of Bill
Wilson, standing in the crowd near the door. "That's the truth of the
whole matter," he said, speaking directly to Bill. "I didn't try to
make trouble; but I couldn't stand by and see a man murdered, no more
than any decent man could." He paused; and still looking toward Bill,
added: "I didn't even notice particularly who the men were, until I
went up to the boy. It all happened so sudden that I--"
The Captain cleared his throat. "You admit, then, that you killed
Rawhide Jack and Texas Bill this morning?"
"I surely do," retorted Jack. "And if you want to know, I'm kinda
proud of it; it was a long shot--to clean the town of two such
blackguards. And right here I want to apologize to the town for making
a bungle of killing Swift!"
"We have two witnesses who also swear that you killed Tex' and
Rawhide, though they give a very different version of the trouble with
the boy. Would you ask us to believe that Texas Bill lied with his
last breath?"
"If he told the story you say he did, he certainly lied most sinfully
with his last breath; but I'd hate to take your word for anything, so
I don't know whether he lied or not."
"Mr. Swift, here, tells the same story that Texas Bill told." The
Captain chose to ignore the insults. "I think their testimony should
carry more weight with the Committee than yours, or the boy's. You are
trying to save your neck; and the boy probably feels that he owes you
some gratitude for taking his part. But the Committee's business is to
weed out the dangerous element which is altogether too large in this
town; and the Committee feels that you are one of the most dangerous.
However, we will call another witness. Shorty, you may come forward."
Shorty came scowling up and sat down upon the box Swift had occupied.
He took the oath and afterwards declared that he had overheard Jack
coaching the boy about what he should tell the Committee. The Captain,
having brought out that point, promptly excused him.
"Gentlemen of the jury, you have heard the evidence, and your duty is
plain. We are waiting for the verdict."
The man with the cud looked a question at the Captain; turned
and glanced down the row at the eleven, who nodded their heads in
unanimous approval of his thoughts. He once more shifted the wad
of tobacco, as a preliminary to expectorating gravely into the sand
floor, and pronounced his sentence with a promptness that savored of
relish:
"The verdict of the jury is that we hang Jack Allen for killin' Texas
and Rawhide, and for bein' a mean, ornery cuss, anyway."
The Captain turned coldly to the prisoner. "You hear the verdict. The
Committee believes it to be just."
He looked at the group near the door. "Mr. Wilson," he called
maliciously, "you will now be given an opportunity to collect from the
prisoner what he owes you."
"Jack Allen don't owe me a cent!" cried Bill Wilson hotly, shouldering
his way to the open space before the Captain. "But there's a heavy
debt hanging over this damned Committee--a debt they'll have to pay
themselves one day at the end of a rope, if there's as many honest men
in this town as I think there is.
"I helped form the first Vigilance Committee, boys. We did it to
protect the town from just such men as are running the Committee right
now. When crimes like this can be done right before our eyes, in broad
daylight, I say it's time another Committee was formed, to hang this
one! Here they've got a man that they know, and we all know, ain't
done a thing but what any brave, honest man would do. They've gone
through a farce trial that'd make the Digger Injuns ashamed of
themselves; and they've condemned Jack Allen, that's got more real
manhood in his little finger than there is in the dirty, lying
carcasses of the whole damned outfit--they've condemned him to be
hung!
"And why! I can tell yuh why--and it ain't for killing Texas and
Rawhide--two as measly, ornery cusses as there was in town--it ain't
for that. It's for daring to say, last night in my place, that the
Committee is rotten to the core, and that they murdered Sandy McTavish
in cold blood when they took him out and hung him for killing that
greaser in self-defense. It's for speaking his mind, the mind of an
honest man, that they're going to hang him. That is, they'll hang him
if you'll stand by and let 'em do it. I believe both these boys told a
straight story. I believe them three was trying to pull off a daylight
robbery, and Jack shot to save the kid.
"Now, men, see here! I for one have stood about all I'm going to stand
from this bunch of cutthroats that've taken the place of the Committee
we organized to protect the town. To-night I want every man that calls
himself honest to come to my place and hold a mass meeting, to elect a
Committee like we had in the first place. I want every man--"
"Bill, you're crazy!" It was Jack, white to the lips in sheer terror
for Wilson, Jack who refused to blench at his own dire strait, who
sprang up and clapped a hand over the mouth that was sealing the doom
of the owner. "Take him out, Jim, for God's sake! Take him--Bill,
listen to me, you fool! What was it you were telling me, there in your
own doorway, to-day? About not thinking out loud? You can't save me by
talking like that! These men--those that don't hate me--are so scared
of their own necks that they wouldn't lift a finger to save a twin
brother. Take him out, boys! Bill doesn't mean any harm." He tried to
smile and failed utterly. "He likes me, and he's--he's--"
Shorty it was who jerked him away from Bill. The Captain, on his feet,
was dominating the uneasy crowd with his cold stare more than with the
gun he held in his hand.
"This Committee," he stated in his calm, judicial tone, which chilled
the growing fire of excitement and held the men silent that they might
listen, "this Committee regrets that in the course of its unpleasant
duties it must now and then rouse the antagonism of a bad man's
friends. But this Committee must perform the duties for which it was
elected. This Committee is sorry to see Mr. Wilson take the stand he
takes, but it realizes that friendship for the condemned man leads
him to make statements and threats for which he should not be held
responsible. Gentlemen, this court of inquiry is dismissed, and it
may not be amiss to point out the necessity for order being maintained
among you. The Committee would deeply regret any trouble arising at
this time."
"Oh, damn you and your Committee!" gritted Bill Wilson, out of the
bitterness that filled him. He gave Jack one glance; one, and with his
jaws set hard together, turned his back.
The crowd pushed and parted to make way for him. Jim, his face the
color of a pork rind, followed dog-like at the heels of his boss. And
when they had passed, the tent began to belch forth men who walked
with heads and shoulders a little bent, talking together under their
breaths of this man who dared defy the Committee to its face, and
whose daring was as impotent as the breeze that still pulled at the
flapping corner of the cloth sign over the door of his place.
Bill glanced dully up at the sign before he opened his door. "Better
get the hammer and nail that corner down, Jim," he said morosely,
and went in. He poured a whisky glass two-thirds full of liquor and
emptied it with one long swallow--and Bill was not a drinking man.
"God! This thing they call justice!" he groaned, as he set down the
glass; and went out to make an attempt at organizing a rescue party,
though he had little hope of succeeding. Jack was a stranger to the
better class of business men, and those who did know him were either
friends of the Committee or in deadly fear of it. Still, Bill was
a gambler. He was probably putting the mark of the next victim on
himself; but he did not stop for that.