Judge Meyer's court was crowded when the three big policemen, formed
like a football team, wedged their way into the building. In the centre
of the "A" walked the prisoner, handcuffed and chained like a murderer.
When they had arrived in front of the judge and the officers stepped
back they left the prisoner exposed to the gaze of the spectators.
Standing six feet two, strong and erect, he looked as bold and defiant
as a Roman warrior, and at sight of him there ran a murmur through the
court room which was promptly silenced by the judge.
In response to the usual questions the prisoner said his name was Dan
Moran, that his occupation was that of a locomotive engineer. He had
been in the employ of the Burlington for a quarter of a century--ever
since he was fifteen years old--but being one of the strikers he was now
out of employment.
"You are charged," said the clerk, "with trespassing upon the property
of the Chicago, Burlington & Quincy Railroad Company, inciting a riot,
attempting to blow up a locomotive and threatening the life of the
engineer. How do you plead?"
"Not guilty," said the old engine-driver, and as he said this he seemed
to grow an inch and looked grander than ever.
Being asked if he desired counsel the prisoner said he did not, that the
whole matter could be explained by a single witness--an employee of the
company.
The company detective and the police officers exchanged glances, the
judge coughed, the crowd of loafers shifted ballast and rested on the
other foot. Only the prisoner stood motionless and erect.
The detective, the first witness for the prosecution, testified that he
had followed the prisoner into the yards from among the freight cars,
watched him approach the engine Blackwings and talk with the engineer.
He could not make out all that passed, but knew that the men had
quarrelled. He had seen the prisoner stoop down and fumble about the
air-pump on the engineer's side of the engine. He then rose and as he
moved off made some threat against the life of the engineer and about
"ditching" the train.
Being asked to repeat this important part of his testimony, the witness
admitted that he could not repeat the threat exactly, but he was
positive that the prisoner had threatened the life of the engineer of
the Denver Limited. He was positive that the last words uttered by the
prisoner as he left the engine were these: "This train, by this time,
ought to be in the ditch." The witness followed the statement with the
explanation that the train was then nearly two hours late. "This," said
the witness, still addressing the court, "was found in the prisoner's
inside coat pocket," and he held up a murderous looking stick of
dynamite. After landing the would-be dynamiter safely in jail the
detective had hastened back to the locomotive, which was then about to
start out on her perilous run, and had found a part of the fuse, which
had been broken, attached to the air brake apparatus. This he exhibited,
also, and showed that the piece of fuse found on the engine fitted the
piece still on the dynamite.
It looked like a clear case of intent to kill somebody, and even the
prisoner's friends began to believe him guilty. Three other witnesses
were called for the prosecution. The company's most trusted detective,
and a Watchem man testified that the prisoner had, up to now, borne a
good reputation. He had been one of the least noisy of the strikers and
had often assisted the police in protecting the company's property. The
master-mechanic under whom Dan Moran had worked as a locomotive engineer
for twenty years took the stand and said, with something like tears in
his voice, that Dan _had been_ one of the best men on the road. Being
questioned by the company's attorney he gave it as his opinion that no
dynamite was attached to the air-pump of Blackwings when she crossed the
table, and that if it was there at all it must have been put there after
the engine was coupled on to the Denver Limited. Then he spoiled all
this and shocked the prosecuting attorney by expressing the belief that
there must be some mistake.
"Do you mean to say that you disbelieve this gentleman, who, at the risk
of his life, arrested this ruffian and prevented murder?" the lawyer
demanded.
"I mean to say," said the old man slowly, "that I don't believe Dan put
the dynamite on the engine."
When the master-mechanic had been excused and was passing out Dan put
out his hand--both hands in fact, for they were chained together--and
the company's officer shook the manacled hands of the prisoner and
hurried on.
When the prosecution had finished, the prisoner was asked to name the
witness upon whom he relied.
"George Cowels," said the accused, and there ran through the audience
another murmur, the judge frowned, and the standing committee shifted
back to the other foot.
"Your Honor, please," said the attorney rising, "we are only wasting
time with this incorrigible criminal. He must know that George Cowels is
dead for he undoubtedly had some hand in the murder, and now to show you
that he had not, he has the temerity to stand up here and pretend to
know nothing whatever about the death of the engineer. I must say that,
quiet and gentle as he is, he is a cunning villain to try to throw dust
in the eyes of the people by pretending to be ignorant of Cowels's
death. I submit, your Honor, there is no use in wasting time with this
man, and we ask that he be held without bail, to await the action of the
grand jury."
Dan Moran appeared to pay little or no attention to what the lawyer was
saying, for the news of Cowels's death had been a great shock to him.
The fact that he had been locked up over night and then brought from the
jail to the court in a closed van might have accounted for his ignorance
of Cowels's death, but no one appeared to think of that. But now,
finding himself at the open door of a prison, with a strong chain of
circumstantial evidence wound about him, he began to show some interest
in what was going on.
The judge, having adjusted his glasses, and opened and closed a few
books that lay on his desk, was about to pronounce sentence when the
prisoner asked to be allowed to make a statement.
This the attorney for the company objected to as a waste of time, for he
was satisfied of the prisoner's guilt, but the judge over-ruled the
objection and the prisoner testified.
He admitted having had the dynamite in his pocket when arrested, but
said he had taken it from the engine to prevent its exploding and
wrecking the locomotive. He said he had quarrelled with the engineer of
Blackwings at first, but later they came to an understanding. He then
gave the young runner some fatherly advice, and started to leave when he
was arrested.
Although he told his story in a straightforward honest way, it was, upon
the face of it, so inconsistent that even the loafers, changing feet
again, pitied the prisoner and many of them actually left the room
before the judge could pronounce sentence. Moran was held, of course,
and sent to jail without bail. He had hosts of friends, but somehow they
all appeared to be busy that evening and only a few called to see him.
One man, not of the Brotherhood, said to himself that night as he went
to his comfortable bed: "I will not forsake the company, neither will I
forsake Dan Moran until he has been proven guilty."