That's what had happened. She had died. Her heart went back on her. But
my pa said they kept it away from the jury. And Mitch kept sittin' there
lookin' pretty tired. The jury wasn't allowed to leave; but just sat
there. And they passed 'em water. And the judge had gone out, probably
to see Mrs. Rainey. My pa went too, and Major Abbott. Then they all came
back together, and the judge got on the bench, and said to go on.
Major Abbott stood up and took off his nose glasses and began to kind of
shake 'em with his hand, and he looked at Mitch, and Mitch looked at
him, kind of scared, I thought. And then Major Abbott began.
"When did you first tell this story you've just told here?"
"Never before," says Mitch.
"Did you talk to the State's Attorney about it?"
"Yes, sir."
"When?"
"This noon."
"Then you did tell it before you told it here."
"Yes, sir."
"What made you say you'd never told it before, Mitchie?"
"I thought you meant in any court."
"Did you tell it to any one before you told it to the State's
Attorney?"
"Yes, sir."
"Who?"
"My pa."
"When?"
[Illustration: Major Abbott Cross-examining Mitch]
"This morning."
"Uh, huh. And did you tell it to any one else?'
"No, sir."
"At no time?"
"No, sir."
"At no time between the night that Joe Rainey was killed and until you
told your father this morning?"
"No, sir."
"Why did you keep it to yourself?"
"For a lot of reasons."
"Didn't you know it was your duty under the law to tell what you claimed
to know?"
"I kind of thought so."
"So then you were neglecting your duty and knew that you were?"
"Maybe so."
"And didn't you know that when a case is tried, the witnesses for one
side are all heard together, and then the witnesses for the other?"
"Well, I know that now."
"And that it's the exception for a witness to be heard after one side of
the case, the side he belongs to, has closed its testimony?"
"I know that now."
"And you waited until this case was practically over and then offered
yourself?"
"Yes, sir."
"You were never subpoenaed?"
"Not in this case."
"What case were you subpoenaed in?"
"Doc Lyon."
"Did you testify?"
"No, sir."
"Why?"
"He killed hisself."
"And that let you out?"
"Yes, sir."
"You've been reading a book called 'Tom Sawyer,' haven't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"And he testified in a case and made a sensation?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you're makin' a sensation?"
"I suppose so."
"Just like Tom Sawyer?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you like it, don't you, Mitchie?"
"No, sir--I hate it."
"You're playin' the same part Tom Sawyer played?"
"I don't know."
"Did you hate it when you hid the pistol and didn't tell any one?"
"Yes, sir."
"And did you hate it up to the time you told your father?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you hate it now?"
"Yes, sir--but it's my duty."
Major Scott said to the judge, "I move to strike out those words 'but
it's my duty.'" The judge said, "stricken out," then Major Abbott said:
"Just answer my question and don't volunteer anything. Now, Mitchie,
isn't it true that you have been digging for treasure this summer like
Tom Sawyer in the woods hereabouts, and at Old Salem?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you expected to find it?"
"Yes, sir, and we did."
"You did?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, tell me."
"We found more'n $2,000 in Old Man Bender's cellar, after his house
burned down."
"You're pretty rich, then?"
"No, the law took it away from us. It cheated to the county."
The audience broke into a laugh and the Sheriff called for order. Major
Abbott resumed.
"But after that you went on hunting for treasure, you and the son of the
State's Attorney?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have you ever heard that this is a community where some people have
visions?"
The judge said: "That's not proper, Major Abbott." And Major Abbott
said: "I thought the remark not out of form, considering that the son of
the distinguished State's Attorney has illusions too."
My pa said: "This is a good place to wake up, as you'll find." And Major
Abbott said: "When is waking up time?"
My pa says, "Now."
Then the people laughed and the jury and the Sheriff rapped for order
again.
"Well," said Major Abbott, "did you ever deceive anybody, Mitchie?"
Mitchie tugged with his hands, and said, "Yes, sir."
"You ran away to Havana and deceived your father, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"You told him you were going out to a farm to see your chum?"
"Yes, sir--and I did."
"But you were really on your way to Havana to run away to St. Louis, and
see Tom Sawyer?"
"Yes, sir."
"So you did deceive your father?"
"Lookin' at it that way, I did."
"And don't you know that there is and never was such a boy as Tom
Sawyer?"
"I know there is."
"How do you know that?"
"I got a letter from him."
"How do you know he wrote it?"
"It was signed with his name."
"Don't you think somebody might deceive you by signing his name to a
letter?"
"Maybe."
"You never saw Tom Sawyer and never saw him write?"
"No, sir."
"And isn't it true that you don't know a thing about it?"
"I can't believe anybody would sign his name to a letter. Besides I
wrote him one and it reached him, because this letter was his answer."
"And are these your reasons for believing that Tom Sawyer lives and
wrote to you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you ever have dreams, Mitchie?"
"Lots."
"Didn't you dream about being up in this tree?"
"No, sir."
"Do you sometimes see dreams when you're not asleep--when it's day?"
"Sometimes."
"Didn't you pass the house of Joe Rainey the next morning after he was
killed?"
"I believe I did."
"And wasn't it then that you picked up this pistol?"
"No, sir."
"Did you know what it means, if it was true, to see a pistol put down by
a woman by this porch?"
"I think so."
"Tell me."
"Well, I thought it meant that somebody wanted to make it appear that
Joe Rainey had it."
"Well, then you knew it was your duty as a good boy to tell the
authorities--to tell the State's Attorney?"
"Yes, sir, I know it now."
"Didn't you know it then?"
"In a kind of way, but I was so taken up with the treasure and going to
see Tom Sawyer; and I had been subpoenaed in the Doc Lyon case and I
was afraid I would be subpoenaed in this case and kept here so I couldn't
go away."
"Your father is a preacher, isn't he?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you have been raised to tell the truth and do your duty?"
"Yes, sir--but the flesh is weak."
"And the flesh pots are tempting," said Major Abbott right quick, "and
you love treasure and love to live over the life of Tom Sawyer, a boy
who never lived?"
"I can't answer that."
"Why?"
"Well, I love treasure, that is I love to find it--but I'm not livin'
over Tom Sawyer's life any more than is natural."
"But it is true that you deceived your father, it is true you ran away,
it is true you meant to run away from the court--all this is true?"
"Yes, sir."
"And then all of a sudden you got this idea of duty?"
"Yes, sir--by reading 'Hamlet.'"
"'Hamlet'?"
"Yes, sir, he kept foolin' with his duty, and it taught me not to."
"Did your father tell you to say that?"
"No, sir."
"I thought the great example of Lincoln had influenced you?"
"It did."
"Have you read 'Hamlet'?"
"Yes, sir, I have."
"Did he live, too?"
"Yes, sir--everybody lives that was ever wrote about."
And so Major Abbott kept cross-questioning Mitch until Mitch's mouth got
dry and he had to have a glass of water. They handed it to him, and
Major Abbott stood there like a hunter trappin' an animal. He was so
cool and insultin' and kept comin' right after Mitch. Then he began
again:
"Did you ever hear of Lincoln running away?"
"No, sir."
"Or deceiving his father?"
"No, sir."
"Or his mother?"
"His mother was dead."
"Or neglecting his duty in any way?"
"No, sir, that's the reason his example is so good."
"Well, why didn't you follow it from the beginning?"
"I told you why--I don't pretend to be good like Linkern."
"You don't?"
"No, sir, sometimes I think I'm very bad."
"Don't you think you're very bad right now to come here and tell such a
story as this, after the State has closed its case, after all these
weeks?"
"No, sir."
"And you knew, too, Mitchie, that it was common talk here that Joe
Rainey tried to kill Temple Scott and shot at him first?"
"Yes, sir."
"And all the time you were keeping this to yourself for the sake of
treasure, and in order to have your own way, and run off?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you knew that your chum's father was elected here to enforce the
law, and that the guilty should be punished--all this you knew?"
"Yes, sir."
"And yet you did all that you did--all that you have told?"
"Yes, sir."
Well, then Major Abbott took another turn. He asked Mitch about the
tree, whether it was a cherry tree or an oak tree, and Mitch didn't
know. And he asked him how high up he was, and what the light was, and
whether anybody passing couldn't see him in the tree; and how tall the
woman was that put the pistol there, and how she was dressed; and where
Temple Scott and Joe Rainey was when he first saw them, and if he knew
Harold Carman, and what the names of the other people were who came
out; and what he did the day before, and the week before, and the week
after; and whether he didn't fight and whip Kit O'Brien, and everything
you ever heard of from the time Mitch was a baby. It took all the
afternoon. And when Mitch got off the witness stand he was kind of weak,
and his pa went up to him and led him out, and then they locked up the
jury to keep 'em from hearin' anything. And the case went over till the
next morning.
And the next mornin' we was all down there as before. When court took
up, Major Abbott and my pa and the judge went into the judge's room and
nobody knew what was said, the same as before, and when they came out,
Major Abbott said:
"Your honor, such unusual things have been done in this case that I am
compelled to do some myself. I shall call the defendant to the witness
stand." So he called Temple Scott and he went up and was questioned. He
went on to say that Joe Rainey called him an awful name, and said, "I'll
kill you, and I'll get my pistol." That Joe Rainey went in the house and
came out and fired, and that he fired then, and that he saw Joe Rainey's
pistol fall out of his hand right down by the porch somewheres; that
then he gave himself up, and that's all he knew.
My pa cross-questioned him awful hard for about an hour, and asked him
how he happened to have a pistol on him. He said he was afraid of Joe
Rainey on account of the threats. And then my pa asked him why he didn't
tell his story in the first place, and not wait till Mitch testified;
and he said he didn't have to, the law didn't require him to. And so it
went, and at last he got off the stand, and the case was closed. Then
the speeches began. My pa talked calm like, reviewin' the evidence and
so forth. And then Major Abbott got up and put a glass of water on the
table and wiped his glasses off and said, "May it please your honor,"
and began.
He said it was a privilege to be here in the community that Lincoln had
hallowed, and to stand in the very room he had stood in so many times,
pleading for right and justice, and to plead for right and justice too.
And that all his client wanted was justice; that he, as a defending
lawyer, was as much sworn to support the law as the State's Attorney,
and he wanted to see it enforced, and meant to have it enforced. And
with the help of the court and the jury, it would be enforced; and his
client who had been greatly wronged and barely escaped with his life
would be freed, and could go back to his family, and be a respected
member of the community.
Then after takin' up the case about the threats and everything, he began
on Mitch.
"Think of it, gentlemen," he said, "here is a boy who waits until the
case is closed, and we have a right to think that all they can bring
against my client has been brought, and then this boy turns up to swear
away his life. Let us be charitable, but let us be just. I must do my
duty and to do it, I must speak. Here is a boy who confesses that he
never told a word about what he saw until yesterday. He confesses that
he kept it to himself in order that he might hunt treasure and run away
from the orders of this court; he confesses that he has deceived his
father, that he has been truant and bad. Yes, and above all, gentlemen,
he confesses he has dreams and sees visions. He believes that a book, a
story, is true; that its characters are real; that a boy named Tom
Sawyer really lives; and he ran away to see him; and yet they ask you
to believe such a boy in the face of this evidence. Why, you wouldn't
convict a yellow dog on such testimony--you are men who know boys and
know life and its affairs, and you know this story is the result of a
pure dream. I'll be charitable; the boy is dreaming; he is a dreamy boy,
an imaginative boy, a wonderful boy--but he is not to be believed. He
never saw this at all. He was never in that tree. The chances are he
picked up this pistol the next morning after passing there--after those
people had come out and searched for the pistol--who had heard three
shots, one of one report, and two of a different report. Why they didn't
find the pistol, God only knows; and the witness who could testify to it
is gone and here we are. And if you ask who the other witnesses are, I
confess I don't know. We could have found their names if we could have
talked with Harold Carman; but he's gone. And here we are, yes, in the
community of Lincoln, but in a community where cowardly people and bad
people live, like other communities. I say this because these other
people, whoever they are, should have come forward and made themselves
known. It would have been gracious if some people had come forward to
tell the truth and save; and not leave it to a boy, and him alone, to
come forward, and condemn and seek to destroy."
Then he drew an awful picture of the gallows and the penitentiary, and
said, "Think of it. To be choked to death on the gallows. To be for
years behind prison bars; or to go home to your old father and mother
and be blessed, and be a blessing and get back your good name."
The jury cried, everybody nearly cried--everybody but Mitch who was
sittin' by me. Mitch says: "He's the dandiest liar I ever heard. I
almost admire him."
Then my pa got up and of all the speeches you ever heard! The shivers
just ran up and down my back. And in about five minutes he had that jury
so you could knock their eyes off with a stick. He had 'em right in his
hand. And he said:
"You dare to disbelieve this boy--you dare to! What does it mean? Harold
Carman ran away. But where are the others? Echo answers where. Major
Abbott stands up here and says that he doesn't know their names, that if
Harold Carman hadn't gone away, he'd know their names, and he gets
before the jury, as if he were testifying, the fact that Harold Carman
is away and what he would say if he were here. He slips that in; and
it's improper and he knows it. He may be a good lawyer, and he is, but
he isn't a witness in this case. And suppose you accept his word and
this story--what do you say? You say that in this community--call it the
community of Lincoln or of the devil, there are people so low, so
murderous in their hearts, that they will allow a fellow being to be
prosecuted and never come forward to tell what they know, which if they
told it, would clear Temple Scott before this jury on the spot. And that
isn't all, if you accept this story, you say that I haven't done my
duty; you say that the man you elected to enforce the law will use his
power to pervert the law; will fail to get all the facts before the
jury. Because you couldn't imagine that there are such witnesses who
came out looking for a pistol and I wouldn't have heard it and known
about it. And if I did, and didn't get them, I wouldn't be fit to be
your State's Attorney, or to hold any position of trust whatever. Where
is Harold Carman? It doesn't make any difference where he is. Where are
the others? They're not in this town or any other town. They're not any
more in being than Tom Sawyer; but they are unlike Tom Sawyer, for as a
piece of fiction he is real; and as fiction, these people are unreal and
don't convince."
And then my pa said: "Now, let's take up the pistol. Both sides here,
everybody agrees the pistol was there. The dispute is how it got there.
Consider this: Why would they come out and begin to look for a pistol?
Who told them to? Who told them to look by the porch? How did they know
before they got there where to look first? You've seen this pistol
here--it's Joe Rainey's pistol--and here is something my astute friend
overlooked; one of the cartridges is out--the rest are there--one is
clear out, not shot, exploded, with the shell left, but clear out. How
did that happen? Do you believe Mitchie Miller did that? Are you going
to ascribe to him such devilish cunning as that? No, gentlemen, the hand
that placed that pistol by the porch slipped the cartridge out first.
The hand that placed that pistol there depended upon the story of three
shots being fired, and in the insanity of the moment, slipped out a
cartridge; and for a very good reason. It couldn't be fired at such a
time. There were only two shots, according to the fair weight of the
evidence; there were two bullets found in Joe Rainey's body; and those
two bullets were fired by the hand of Temple Scott."
As my pa said this, his voice rose up so you could hear him all over
town. John Armstrong said you could have heard him clear to Oakford. The
audience just shivered when pa said this.
"Let me go on," said pa. "Let us assume Joe Rainey comes in and runs
up-stairs for his pistol and goes out. Well, they pick him up on the
porch and no pistol is on him. Then they come out and look, but find no
pistol. What would they have done? There would have been talk so loud
about that missing pistol that even Major Abbott could have heard
it--clear over to Jerseyville. Why was nothing said? Because the hand
that put that pistol there, the woman that put it there was terrified.
She was afraid that some one had seen her put it there; she knew some
one picked it up that she didn't want to have pick it up--she was afraid
it would turn up against her in the wrong hands. And she and this
crowd--whoever they were--if there was one, were afraid to go on with
the evidence they had started to manufacture. And this testimony of
Mitchie Miller is every word true. You saw his face, you heard him, you
know he wouldn't lie--and as for having visions--if he dreamed this, he
would be fit for an asylum, and every one of you could see it--and he
would be in an asylum."
Than pa just lit into Temple Scott. He said he was a coward, and he said
when Joe Rainey asked him not to come to his house any more, it was his
business to stay away. And that for himself he meant to stop lawlessness
in the town. He intended to do his duty so fully that people would be
afraid to break the law and take life. And then he said he had done his
duty, and now the jury had to do theirs, and he left the case with them.
And then the judge read a lot of instructions to the jury and Sheriff
Rutledge took 'em and locked 'em up and we sat and waited. They was out
all that day and all that night and all the next day. And we waited.
And finally toward evening they came in and told the judge they couldn't
agree. It seems, so pa said, two of the jurors was for hangin' and five
for the penitentiary, and five for acquittal. So they was discharged.
Temple Scott was held to the next term of court for another trial, and
court adjourned.