AN UNEXPECTED WITNESS
The alcalde, the moment he saw that the mob spirit had been subdued, had
returned quietly to his place behind the barrel; and, when the two boys
again gave their attention to him, he had just reached his rude seat of
judgment, and was about to speak.
"I knew," he said, as his keen eyes searched the faces of the men, who
had so opportunely formed the cordon of safety around him and his court,
"that I could depend on the good sense and fair-mindedness of the people
of Sacramento City. We will now proceed with the trial," and he quietly
slipped back both of his revolvers into his coat pockets.
"Once more," and the alcalde raised his voice so that all could hear,
"the court asks, is there any other witness to bear testimony against
the two prisoners, if so, let him now step forward."
For a minute or two the alcalde waited. There was no movement, no word
from the surrounding crowd.
"We will now proceed with the examination of the prisoners. Young man,
take your place on the witness stand," and the alcalde turned to Thure.
"Don't get excited. Keep cool," cautioned Bud, as Thure hastened to take
his place in front of the barrel.
A hush came over the great encircling crowd, as Thure stood before
the alcalde and was solemnly sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth. Many of those rough bearded men had sons
of their own back at home, hardly younger than was the prisoner, who
now stood before the bar of justice, with a rope dangling threateningly
above his head; and these men found it hard to believe that that
wholesome-looking, clear-eyed youth could be guilty of the atrocious
crime charged against him. But, there was the evidence; and the laws of
the city must be enforced; and their faces grew stern and sad.
Thure told his story in a clear straightforward way; told how he and Bud
had gone out for a hunt on that day, how they had heard the death-cry of
the unfortunate horse and had slain the huge grizzly, how, just after
they had completed the skinning of the grizzly, they had seen the
struggle of the old miner with his two assailants and had rushed to his
rescue, how the robbers had fled, leaving the miner robbed and mortally
stabbed, how they had endeavored to get him to their home before he
died, but had failed, and, finally, how the miner had died and they had
borne his dead body home and had buried it.
There was hardly a loud sound made while Thure was telling his story.
One could almost have heard the great crowd breathing. When he had
spoken of witnessing the struggle between the miner and his murderers
and of rushing to his rescue, there had been a great stir in the crowd,
but it had quickly subsided, so eager were all to hear every word that
he uttered. His manner and his story made a deep impression; but, alas,
it was soon seen that his evidence had introduced nothing to disprove
the testimony of his two accusers that had any stronger proof back of it
than his own word and the word of his fellow prisoner, while he had
admitted bringing the dead body of the murdered miner home and burying
it, admitted having the dead body of the miner in his possession. This,
at least, was in direct proof of what his accusers had testified; for
they had sworn that they had seen the two boys bear the dead body off
with them. It looked as if they had made their story up to fit in with
the accounts of the previous witnesses and yet disprove the story of
their accusers.
Thure, so far in his testimony, had said nothing of the description the
old miner had given of his murderers. He was saving that for the last,
to be brought out by the questions of the alcalde, if possible. He
wished to make it as emphatic and striking as possible, and yet he did
not wish to appear to give it voluntarily; for he was wise enough to see
that for him and Bud to accuse their accusers might re-act back on
themselves. Fortunately the questions of the alcalde led directly to it.
"You testify," began the alcalde, the moment Thure had apparently
completed his testimony, "that you drove the murderers away from the
body of the miner. Did you get near enough to them to recognize them
again, should you see them?"
"No," Thure answered. "I could only swear that one was a large man and
that the other was small."
"Did you discover anything that would lead you to surmise who committed
the crime?" again asked the alcalde.
"No, not directly," answered Thure hesitatingly. "But the old miner,
just before he died, gave us a description of his two murderers," and he
stopped.
"How did he describe them? Why do you hesitate?" asked the alcalde
sharply.
"Because," answered Thure boldly, "the description the dying miner gave
of his two murderers appears to make us accuse our accusers, as if we
were trying to get back at them, when it is God's truth that we are
uttering."
"Give us the description. We are the ones to judge of its merits,"
commanded the alcalde, his face flushing with interest, while the
surrounding crowd became breathless.
Bud was looking at the two men; and he saw both of them start at the
words of Thure and glance apprehensively into each other's eyes.
"The miner said," and Thure turned his eyes full upon Bill Ugger, "that
one of his murderers was a large, red-headed man with a broken nose; and
that the other," and his eyes turned to the face of Spike Quinley, "was
a small man, with a pock-marked face."
For a moment no one spoke. All eyes were bent on the faces of the two
men. There was no mistaking to whom the description applied. Then a
harsh laugh broke from Bill Ugger.
"Tryin' to turn th' tables on us, be you?" and again he laughed. "Wal, I
reckon, ever'one here believes that yarn. It fits tew pat, not tew be
true. So me an' Spike are th' true murderers, be we? Wal, this is sum
unexpected an' s'prisin', ain't it Spike?" and he turned to his comrade,
grinning and glaring like a huge buffoon; but a close observer might
have noticed that his skin had whitened beneath its red beard.
Quinley had started perceptibly at Thure's description of the miner's
murderers, but he had quickly controlled himself, and a deadly gleam had
come into his wicked little eyes and his thin lips had tightened, as,
unperceived by all eyes, except the eyes the movement was intended for,
he had turned and given a man standing in the edge of the circle a
signal. The man at once had slipped back in the crowd and vanished.
"Powerful s'prisin'," and Quinley turned and grinned back into the face
of Ugger. "I reckon you can already feel th' rope a-tightenin' 'round
y'ur neck, can't you, Bill? That description sart'in fits us as pat as
an old shoe. But th' s'prisin'est thing 'bout it all is, that I don't
'pear tew have any rekerlections of a-committin' that murder. Must have
ben dreamin', when I done it."
The eyes of the alcalde, during this brief byplay, had been closely
watching the faces of the two men. He now turned to Thure again.
"Have you any witnesses, other than your fellow prisoner, to testify to
the truth of your statements?" he asked.
"No," answered Thure; "except that our mothers and our sisters and the
folks at the rancho can testify to our bringing home the body of the
dead miner and that we told them that we had found him just as I have
said that we did."
"That would prove nothing as to who committed the murder. Is there
anyone in Sacramento City that knows either of you two boys?"
"No," again answered Thure. "Not that I know of, unless," and his face
brightened, "Captain Sutler is here. He knows both of us well. We are
expecting to find our dads at Hangtown."
"Captain Sutter is not here," answered the alcalde, "as anyone in the
city might have told you; and it is impossible to send to Hangtown after
your fathers."
"But, are we to be proven guilty on the evidence of those two men alone,
whom I am almost certain committed the crime themselves?" and Thure's
face flushed indignantly. "Is not our word, at least, as good as
theirs?"
"Young man," replied the alcalde sternly, "that is for the jury to
decide. Have you any further evidence to give? If not, and the jury do
not wish to ask you any questions," he paused and glanced toward the
foreman, who shook his head, "you are dismissed, and the other prisoner
can take his place on the witness stand."
For a moment Thure hesitated. He wanted to say something, to do
something to further disprove this horrible accusation--but, what could
he say or do that he had not already said or done? He had told his
story. There was nothing more for him to tell, nothing more for him to
do; and, with tightly compressed lips, he turned and walked from the
witness stand back to his place by the side of the sheriff, while Bud
took his place in front of the barrel.
There was nothing new in Bud's testimony. He could only repeat, in
different words, what Thure had already told.
While Bud was giving his testimony, Spike Quinley worked his way up
close to Thure; and again a piece of paper was slipped furtively into
his hand.
Thure glanced down at the paper. At least here was a chance to escape
the worst. If Bud did not make a better impression than he apparently
had, then there would be nothing left but to surrender the map, that or
hanging. And it must be done soon now, or it would be too late. Thure
shuddered at the thought of the hanging; and, with fingers that trembled
a little, cautiously opened the paper and read these dreadful words:
You have gone and done it now you infernal idjit by testifin' agin
us it is now yur necks or ourn al hel kant save you now you kan
keep the map and we wil git it off yur ded bodies and you kan have
the satisfackshun of noin that you might have ben alive and wel
when yur danglin ded at the end of a rope.
The vindictive scrawl closed with a rude attempt to draw a rope, hanging
from a tree, with a man dangling from one end.
Thure stared blankly at the paper for a moment after he had read the
words that appeared to close their last avenue of escape. He saw clearly
the force of their meaning. It had, indeed, now become a battle for life
between him and Bud and their two accusers. Their testimony, once they
were free, would turn suspicion directly upon Quinley and Ugger. It
would be suicidal for the two men now to attempt to do anything to free
them. Thure raised his eyes and looked wildly around, at the face of the
alcalde, the faces of the jury, and the faces of the surrounding crowd.
On all was a look of ominous sadness and sternness that made his heart
sink. Evidently the words and the actions of the cunning Ugger and the
crafty Quinley had again completely turned the tide against them. But
the worst blow was yet to come.
Bud completed his testimony and, in an ominous silence, was dismissed.
The alcalde arose from his judgment-stump and turned to address a few
final words to the jury; but, as the first word left his mouth, a
commotion occurred in the crowd directly in front of him.
"More testimony! Important testimony!" shouted a voice; and a man, with
his right arm done up in a sling, pushed his way through the encircling
crowd.
The man hastily and keenly scrutinized the faces of the two prisoners.
"Yes, them's sart'inly th' fellers," he said aloud; and turned his eyes
on the faces of their accusers.
"Them's shore th' same two men I seed. Thar's no mistaking them faces,"
he declared, with conviction. "Now," and he turned to the alcalde, "I
asks y'ur pardon, y'ur honor; but, bein' sum crippled with a broken arm,
as you can see, an', on that account, keepin' sum close in my tent, I
heared nuthin' of this trial 'til jest a few minits ago; but, when I did
hear of it, I felt mortally sart'in that it had tew do with th' same
murder that I witness in th' Sacermento Valley three days ago; an',
wantin' tew see that justice made no mistake, I got here as quick as I
could, tew give in my testimony. Hope I'm not tew late," and he fixed
his eyes anxiously on the face of the alcalde.
"No; you are not too late," the alcalde answered, looking at the man
keenly, "if your evidence is of real importance."
"I reckon it is of real importance," answered the man, "seein' that I
saw th' killin' done with my own two eyes; an' was close enough tew
reckernize th' killers plain."
This statement caused a big sensation in the surrounding crowd. All
pressed nearer, and stretched their heads eagerly forward to get a sight
of this new witness, while, "Hush!" "Quiet!" "Shut your mouth!" and like
expressions, came from all around the crowding circle of men.
Thure and Bud had both started with pleased surprise at the words of
this unexpected witness, and their faces lighted up with hope. Here, at
last, was a witness who would tell the truth, who would free them from
this horrible accusation of murder; for, evidently by his actions, he
was as much of a stranger to Ugger and Quinley as he was to themselves,
and, consequently, he could not be in league with their two cunning and
mendacious accusers. They glanced at the two men. Their surprise
appeared to be real; and the two boys thought they detected a look of
fearful consternation on each face.
"Step forward and be sworn," commanded the alcalde, the moment the buzz
of the excitement caused by the words of the man with the broken arm had
ceased.
The man stepped quickly in front of the barrel; and was sworn, in the
same manner the other witnesses had been sworn, to tell the truth.
"What is your name and business?" demanded the alcalde.
"John Skoonly," replied the man; "an' I'm bound for th' diggin's. Jest
got in from San Francisco this mornin'."
"Now, John Skoonly," and the alcalde's eyes rested steadily on the
witness's face as he settled back on his stump, "kindly tell the jury
and the people gathered here, what you know of the case now being tried
before them."
"I was on my way from San Francisco tew here," began the witness, "when
three days ago I wandered off th' main trail tew do a little huntin' an'
was throwed by my hoss an' broke my right arm. That took all th' hunt
out of me; an' I laid down under sum trees that growed 'long side a crik
tew try an' do sumthin' tew ease up th' pain an' tew git a little rest
afore I started back for th' trail.
"Wal, I reckon I hadn't ben thar more'n half an hour, when I heared a
screech that fairly lifted my hat off my head, a-comin' from th' open
valley, jest beyont th' trees whar I was a-lyin' in th' shade, an'
a-soundin' like sum feller was gittin' hurt mortal bad. I jumps up quick
an' runs tew sum bushes that growed a-treen me an' th' sound, an' looks
through 'em, a little cautious-like on account of my broken arm, an'
seed three men a-strugglin' on th' ground not more'n forty rods from
whar I was; an' th' next I knowed I heared a lot of yellin', an' seen
tew men jump out of th' bushes sum twenty rods below me, an' start
runnin' for them fightin' men. But, afore they'd made a dozen jumps, tew
of them men springs up from th' ground, th' other man didn't 'pear tew
have any spring left in him, but lay still, grabs up their rifles an'
hollers tew them runnin' men tew stop sudden, or they'd shoot; an' th'
men stops sudden, they havin' only pistols. Then th' tew men with rifles
yells for them tew git an' git quick, an' one on 'em fires his rifle;
an', I reckon, th' bullet must have come close, for th' tew men whirled
'bout like they was sum scart an' started back for th' bushes.
"Th' tew men now picks up th' body of th' third man, which hangs limp
like he was dead, an' flings it across th' back of one of their hosses
an' ties it thar. Then they mounts th' other tew hosses an' goes
a-ridin' off a-leadin' the hoss with th' dead body across its back ahind
'em; an' in ridin' off, they comes within a dozen rods of whar I was
a-hidin', an' I sees 'em plain, an' I was s'prised tew see that they
didn't look tew be much more'n boys; an' yit they 'peared tew have
killed a man!
"Y'ur honor," and the man paused and whirled partly around, and when he
continued again his voice was very solemn, "as shore as thar is a God in
heaven, th' tew men that I saw a-ridin' by me, with that dead body on
th' hoss ahind them, are a-standin' right thar!" and he pointed straight
toward Thure and Bud.
A sound of horror and of rage went up from the surrounding crowd, a
sound that had the promise of dreadful things to come in it.
The alcalde leaped to his feet, his face looking white and drawn; for he
knew that now the two boys were doomed, and, somehow, in spite of all
the terrible evidence, he could not look into their clear-eyed faces and
believe them guilty of such a horrible crime.
"Silence! Silence, men!" he commanded, stretching out both of his hands
imperatively. "Silence! I have questions, important questions to ask the
witness."
Almost instantly the great crowd became still, so anxious were all now
to hear every word.
"John Skoonly," and the alcalde turned to the witness, "you swear that
you saw two men start to the rescue of the murdered man. Did you see
these two men plainly enough to recognize them should you see them
again?"
"Sart'in'," replied the man promptly, and, whirling about, he pointed to
Quinley and Ugger, "Thar they stand. I'd know them mugs ag'in anywhar,"
and he grinned.
"Why," continued the alcalde, "did you not make your presence known to
these two men, at least after the murderers had ridden off? There would
not have been any danger then," and he smiled scornfully; "and they
might have been of help to you in your crippled condition."
"Wal," answered the man frankly, turning and looking squarely into the
faces of Ugger and Quinley, "tew be honest, I didn't like th' looks of
them tew faces none tew much; an', as I had consider'ble of money 'long
with me, I reckoned 'twould be safer for me tew travel alone jest then,
so I jest sneaked out 'tother side of th' trees an' rode back tew th'
trail alone."
Quinley and Ugger scowled at this frank reference to their looks; and a
few in the encircling crowd laughed grimly. Plainly there could be no
collusion between this witness and Ugger and Quinley; and this apparent
fact gave almost the positiveness of proven truth to his testimony, in
the eyes of the crowd.
"Then," and the alcalde looked sharply into the face of the witness,
"you never saw either William Ugger or Spikenard Quinley, until you saw
them, as described in your testimony, on the day of the murder?"
"If y'ur meanin' that little pock-marked runt an' that big red-readed
feller with a smashed nose, a-standin' thar, I sart'inly never did see
them afore that identickle moment. Why, I didn't even know their names
'til you spoke 'em out."
Again some of the crowd laughed in a grim sort of a way; and again Ugger
and Quinley scowled and glared wrathfully at the frank-spoken witness.
"I am done," the alcalde said quietly, turning to the jury. "Do you,
gentlemen of the jury, wish to ask the witness any questions?"
"No," replied the foreman, after a glance into the faces of his fellow
jurymen. "Your questions have brought out the only points we wished to
inquire about."
"Do the prisoners wish to ask the witness any questions?" and the
alcalde turned to Thure and Bud.
For a moment neither boy spoke, neither boy moved. The testimony of this
witness, so different from what they had expected, had dumfounded them.
They felt that he had knocked the last prop out from under their safety;
and all the horrors of their situation had dropped down on their spirits
with crushing, numbing force. Their minds, their nerves, their very
muscles were paralyzed, for the moment, by the sudden and awful
realization that now they must hang, must hang for a crime committed by
others!
But a boy at eighteen can never be long absolutely without hope. Surely,
surely the jury, the alcalde must see that this witness had lied, that
all the witnesses against them had lied! They could not, they could not
bring in a verdict of guilty! They could not sentence them, Thure
Conroyal and Bud Randolph, to be hanged! Hanged! The thought stung them
into life; and Thure turned wildly to the alcalde.
"It's a lie! a lie!" he cried. "It is all a lie! They know it is a lie!
You surely must believe us! We did not kill the miner! We tried to save
him! In spite of all their lies, you must believe us! We are only two
boys, two boys without a friend to help us! We can not fight against
their cunning! It is our word against their word! Look at us! Look into
our faces! Do we look like boys who would kill a man? Look into the
faces of our accusers! Think, we have fathers, mothers, brothers,
sisters! Oh, you can not hang us, you can not hang us! You must believe
us!"
"My boy," there was a solemn sternness in the voice of the alcalde as he
spoke, "if you are guiltless of the crime charged against you, then, may
God have mercy on us and on you! But I, the jury, the men gathered here
can only judge of your guilt or innocence by the evidence presented
before us; and, according to that evidence, and not according to the
dictates of hearts that may be touched by your youth and seeming
innocence, must the verdict be rendered. Gentlemen of the jury," and he
turned to the jury, "the evidence has now all been laid before you; and
it now becomes your duty to determine the guilt or the innocence of the
prisoners. May the great God of justice and mercy direct your judgment
aright; and cause you to bring in a verdict in accordance with the real
truth!"