“Fetch here the stocks, ho!
You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend bragget,
We'll teach you.”
--Lear.
The long days and early sun of July allowed time for a gathering of the
interested, before the little bell of the academy announced that the
appointed hour had arrived for administering right to the wronged, and
punishment to the guilty. Ever since the dawn of day, the highways and
woodpaths that, issuing from the forests, and winding among the sides of
the mountains, centred in Templeton, had been thronged with equestrians
and footmen, bound to the haven of justice. There was to be seen a
well-clad yeoman, mounted on a sleek, switch-tailed steed, rambling
along the highway, with his red face elevated in a manner that said, “I
have paid for my land, and fear no man;” while his bosom was swelling
with the pride of being one of the grand inquest for the county. At his
side rode a companion, his equal in independence of feeling, perhaps,
but his inferior in thrift, as in property and consideration. This was
a professed dealer in lawsuits--a man whose name appeared in every
calendar--whose substance, gained in the multifarious expedients of a
settler's change able habits, was wasted in feeding the harpies of the
courts. He was endeavoring to impress the mind of the grand juror with
the merits of a cause now at issue, Along with these was a pedestrian,
who, having thrown a rifle frock over his shirt, and placed his best
wool hat above his sunburnt visage, had issued from his retreat in the
woods by a footpath, and was striving to keep company with the others,
on his way to hear and to decide the disputes of his neighbors, as a
petit juror. Fifty similar little knots of countrymen might have been
seen, on that morning, journeying toward the shire-town on the same
errand.
By ten o'clock the streets of the village were filled with busy faces;
some talking of their private concerns, some listening to a popular
expounder of political creeds; and others gaping in at the open
stores, admiring the finery, or examining scythes, axes, and such other
manufactures as attracted their curiosity or excited their admiration.
A few women were in the crowd, most carrying infants, and followed, at
a lounging, listless gait, by their rustic lords and masters. There was
one young couple, in whom connubial love was yet fresh, walking at a
respectful distance from each other; while the swain directed the timid
steps of his bride, by a gallant offering of a thumb.
At the first stroke of the bell, Richard issued from the door of the
“Bold Dragoon,” flourishing a sheathed sword, that he was fond of saying
his ancestors had carried in one of Cromwell's victories, and crying, in
an authoritative tone, to “clear the way for the court.” The order was
obeyed promptly, though not servilely, the members of the crowd nodding
familiarly to the members of the procession as it passed. A party of
constables with their staves followed the sheriff, preceding Marmaduke
and four plain, grave-looking yeomen, who were his associates on the
bench. There was nothing to distinguish these Subordinate judges from
the better part of the spectators, except gravity, which they affected a
little more than common, and that one of their number was attired in an
old-fashioned military coat, with skirts that reached no lower than the
middle of his thighs, and bearing two little silver epaulets, not half
so big as a modern pair of shoulder-knots. This gentleman was a colonel
of the militia, in attendance on a court-martial, who found leisure to
steal a moment from his military to attend to his civil jurisdiction;
but this incongruity excited neither notice nor comment. Three or four
clean-shaved lawyers followed, as meek as if they were lambs going to
the slaughter. One or two of their number had contrived to obtain an air
of scholastic gravity by wearing spectacles. The rear was brought up
by another posse of constables, and the mob followed the whole into the
room where the court held its sitting.
The edifice was composed of a basement of squared logs, perforated here
and there with small grated windows, through which a few wistful faces
were gazing at the crowd without. Among the captives were the guilty,
downcast countenances of the counterfeiters, and the simple but honest
features of the Leather-Stocking. The dungeons were to be distinguished,
externally, from the debtors' apartments only by the size of the
apertures, the thickness of the grates, and by the heads of the spikes
that were driven into the logs as a protection against the illegal use
of edge-tools. The upper story was of frame work, regularly covered with
boards, and contained one room decently fitted up for the purpose of
justice. A bench, raised on a narrow platform to the height of a man
above the floor, and protected in front by a light railing, ran along
one of its sides. In the centre was a seat, furnished with rude arms,
that was always filled by the presiding judge. In front, on a level with
the floor of the room, was a large table covered with green baize, and
surrounded by benches; and at either of its ends were rows of seats,
rising one over the other, for jury-boxes. Each of these divisions was
surrounded by a railing. The remainder of the room was an open square,
appropriated to the spectators.
When the judges were seated, the lawyers had taken possession of
the table, and the noise of moving feet had ceased in the area, the
proclamations were made in the usual form, the jurors were sworn, the
charge was given, and the court proceeded to hear the business before
them.
We shall not detain the reader with a description of the captious
discussions that occupied the court for the first two hours, Judge
Temple had impressed on the jury, in his charge, the necessity for
dispatch on their part, recommending to their notice, from motives
of humanity, the prisoners in the jail as the first objects of their
attention. Accordingly, after the period we have mentioned had elapsed,
the cry of the officer to “clear the way for the grand jury,” announced
the entrance of that body. The usual forms were observed, when the
foreman handed up to the bench two bills, on both of which the Judge
observed, at the first glance of his eye, the name of Nathaniel Bumppo.
It was a leisure moment with the court; some low whispering passed
between the bench and the sheriff, who gave a signal to his officers,
and in a very few minutes the silence that prevailed was interrupted
by a general movement in the outer crowd, when presently the
Leather-Stocking made his appearance, ushered into the criminal's bar
under the custody of two constables, The hum ceased, the people closed
into the open space again, and the silence soon became so deep that the
hard breathing of the prisoner was audible.
Natty was dressed in his buckskin garments, without his coat, in place
of which he wore only a shirt of coarse linen-cheek, fastened at his
throat by the sinew of a deer, leaving his red neck and weather-beaten
face exposed and bare. It was the first time that he had ever crossed
the threshold of a court of justice, and curiosity seemed to be strongly
blended with his personal feelings. He raised his eyes to the bench,
thence to the jury-boxes, the bar, and the crowd without, meeting
everywhere looks fastened on himself. After surveying his own person, as
searching the cause of this unusual attraction, he once more turned his
face around the assemblage, and opened his mouth in one of his silent
and remarkable laughs.
“Prisoner, remove your cap,” said Judge Temple.
The order was either unheard or unheeded.
“Nathaniel Bumppo, be uncovered,” repeated the Judge.
Natty started at the sound of his name, and, raising his face earnestly
toward the bench, he said:
“Anan!”
Mr. Lippet arose from his seat at the table, and whispered in the ear
of the prisoner; when Natty gave him a nod of assent, and took the
deer-skin covering from his head.
“Mr. District Attorney,” said the Judge, “the prisoner is ready; we wait
for the indictment.”
The duties of public prosecutor were discharged by Dirck Van der School,
who adjusted his spectacles, cast a cautious look around him at his
brethren of the bar, which he ended by throwing his head aside so as to
catch one glance over the glasses, when he proceeded to read the bill
aloud. It was the usual charge for an assault and battery on the person
of Hiram Doolittle, and was couched in the ancient language of such
instruments, especial care having been taken by the scribe not to omit
the name of a single offensive weapon known to the law. When he had
done, Mr. Van der School removed his spectacles, which he closed and
placed in his pocket, seemingly for the pleasure of again opening and
replacing them on his nose, After this evolution was repeated once or
twice, he handed the bill over to Mr. Lippet, with a cavalier air, that
said as much as “Pick a hole in that if you can.”
Natty listened to the charge with great attention, leaning forward
toward the reader with an earnestness that denoted his interest; and,
when it was ended, he raised his tall body to the utmost, and drew a
long sigh. All eyes were turned to the prisoner, whose voice was vainly
expected to break the stillness of the room.
“You have heard the presentment that the grand jury have made, Nathaniel
Bumppo,” said the Judge; “what do you plead to the charge?”
The old man drooped his head for a moment in a reflecting attitude, and
then, raising it, he laughed before he answered:
“That I handled the man a little rough or so, is not to be denied; but
that there was occasion to make use of all the things that the gentleman
has spoken of is downright untrue. I am not much of a wrestler, seeing
that I'm getting old; but I was out among the Scotch-Irishers--let me
see--it must have been as long ago as the first year of the old war--”
“Mr. Lippet, if you are retained for the prisoner,” interrupted Judge
Temple, “instruct your client how to plead; if not, the court will
assign him counsel.”
Aroused from studying the indictment by this appeal, the attorney
got up, and after a short dialogue with the hunter in a low voice, he
informed the court that they were ready to proceed.
“Do you plead guilty or not guilty?” said the Judge.
“I may say not guilty, with a clean conscience,” returned Natty; “for
there's no guilt in doing what's right; and I'd rather died on the spot,
than had him put foot in the hut at that moment.”
Richard started at this declaration and bent his eyes significantly on
Hiram, who returned the look with a slight movement of his eyebrows.
“Proceed to open the cause, Mr. District Attorney,” continued the Judge.
“Mr. Clerk, enter the plea of not guilty.”
After a short opening address from Mr. Van der School, Hiram was
summoned to the bar to give his testimony. It was delivered to the
letter, perhaps, but with all that moral coloring which can be conveyed
under such expressions as, “thinking no harm,” “feeling it my bounden
duty as a magistrate,” and “seeing that the constable was back'ard in
the business.” When he had done, and the district attorney declined
putting any further interrogatories, Mr. Lippet arose, with an air of
keen investigation, and asked the following questions:
“Are you a constable of this county, sir?”
“No, sir,” said Hiram, “I'm only a justice-peace.”
“I ask you, Mr. Doolittle, in the face of this court, putting it to
your conscience and your knowledge of the law, whether you had any right
to enter that man's dwelling?”
“Hem!” said Hiram, undergoing a violent struggle between his desire
for vengeance, and his love of legal fame: “I do suppose--that in--that
is--strict law--that supposing--maybe I hadn't a real--lawful right;
but as the case was--and Billy was so back'ard--I thought I might come
for'ard in the business.”
“I ask you again, sir,” continued the lawyer, following up his success,
“whether this old, this friendless old man, did or did not repeatedly
forbid your entrance?”
“Why, I must say,” said Hiram, “that he was considerable cross-grained;
not what I call clever, seeing that it was only one neighbor wanting to
go into the house of another.”
“Oh! then you own it was only meant for a neighborly visit on your part,
and without the sanction of law. Remember, gentlemen, the words of the
witness, 'one neighbor wanting to enter the house of another.' Now, sir,
I ask you if Nathaniel Bumppo did not again and again order you not to
enter?”
“There was some words passed between us,” said Hiram, “but I read the
warrant to him aloud.”
“I repeat my question; did he tell you not to enter his habitation?”
“There was a good deal passed betwixt us--but I've the warrant in my
pocket; maybe the court would wish to see it?”
“Witness,” said Judge Temple, “answer the question directly; did or did
not the prisoner forbid your entering his hut?”
“Why, I some think--”
“Answer without equivocation,” continued the Judge sternly.
“He did.”
“And did you attempt to enter after his order?”
“I did; but the warrant was in my hand.”
“Proceed, Mr. Lippet, with your examination.”
But the attorney saw that the impression was in favor of his client, and
waving his hand with a supercilious manner, as if unwilling to insult
the understanding of the jury with any further defence, he replied:
“No, sir; I leave it for your honor to charge; I rest my case here.”
“Mr. District Attorney,” said the Judge, “have you anything to say?”
Mr. Van der School removed his spectacles, folded them and, replacing
them once more on his nose, eyed the other bill which he held in his
hand, and then said, looking at the bar over the top of his glasses;
“I shall rest the prosecution here, if the court please.”
Judge Temple arose and began the charge.
“Gentlemen of the jury,” he said, “you have heard the testimony, and I
shall detain you but a moment. If an officer meet with resistance in the
execution of a process, he has an undoubted right to call any citizen
to his assistance; and the acts of such assistant come within the
protection of the law. I shall leave you to judge, gentlemen, from the
testimony, how far the witness in this prosecution can be so considered,
feeling less reluctance to submit the case thus informally to your
decision, because there is yet another indictment to be tried, which
involves heavier charges against the unfortunate prisoner.”
The tone of Marmaduke was mild and insinuating, and, as his sentiments
were given with such apparent impartiality, they did not fail of
carrying due weight with the jury. The grave-looking yeomen who composed
this tribunal laid their heads together for a few minutes, without
leaving the box, when the foreman arose, and, after the forms of the
court were duly observed, he pronounced the prisoner to be “Not guilty.”
“You are acquitted of this charge, Nathaniel Bumppo,” said the Judge.
“Anan!” said Natty.
“You are found not guilty of striking and assaulting Mr. Doolittle.”
“No, no, I'll not deny but that I took him a little roughly by the
shoulders,” said Natty, looking about him with great simplicity, “and
that I--”
“You are acquitted,” interrupted the Judge, “and there is nothing
further to be said or done in the matter.”
A look of joy lighted up the features of the old man, who now
comprehended the case, and, placing his cap eagerly on his head again,
he threw up the bar of his little prison, and said, feelingly:
“I must say this for you, Judge Temple, that the law has not been so
hard on me as I dreaded. I hope God will bless you for the kind things
you've done to me this day.”
But the staff of the constable was opposed to his egress, and Mr. Lippet
whispered a few words in his ear, when the aged hunter sank back into
his place, and, removing his cap, stroked down the remnants of his gray
and sandy locks, with an air of mortification mingled with submission.
“Mr. District Attorney,” said Judge Temple, affecting to busy himself
with his minutes, “proceed with the second indictment.”
Mr. Van der School took great care that no part of the presentment,
which he now read, should be lost on his auditors. It accused the
prisoner of resisting the execution of a search-warrant, by force of
arms, and particularized in the vague language of the law, among a
variety of other weapons, the use of the rifle. This was indeed a more
serious charge than an ordinary assault and battery, and a corresponding
degree of interest was manifested by the spectators in its result. The
prisoner was duly arraigned, and his plea again demanded. Mr. Lippet had
anticipated the answers of Natty, and in a whisper advised him how to
plead. But the feelings of the old hunter were awakened by some of
the expressions in the indictment, and, forgetful of his caution, he
exclaimed:
“'Tis a wicked untruth; I crave no man's blood. Them thieves, the
Iroquois, won't say it to any face that I ever thirsted after man's
blood, I have fou't as soldier that feared his Maker and his officer,
but I never pulled trigger on any but a warrior that was up and awake.
No man can say that I ever struck even a Mingo in his blanket. I believe
there's some who thinks there's no God in a wilderness!”
“Attend to your plea, Bumppo,” said the Judge; “you hear that you are
accused of using your rifle against an officer of justice? Are you
guilty or not guilty?”
By this time the irritated feelings of Natty had found vent: and he
rested on the bar for a moment, in a musing posture, when he lifted his
face, with his silent laugh, and, pointing to where the wood-chopper
stood, he said:
“Would Billy Kirby be standing there, d'ye think, if I had used the
rifle?”
“Then you deny it,” said Mr. Lippet; “you plead not guilty?”
“Sartain,” said Natty; “Billy knows that I never fired at all. Billy, do
you remember the turkey last winter? Ah me! that was better than common
firing; but I can't shoot as I used to could.”
“Enter the plea of not guilty,” said Judge Temple, strongly affected by
the simplicity of the prisoner.
Hiram was again sworn, and his testimony given on the second charge.
He had discovered his former error, and proceeded more cautiously
than before. He related very distinctly and, for the man, with amazing
terseness, the suspicion against the hunter, the complaint, the issuing
of the warrant, and the swearing in of Kirby; all of which, he affirmed,
were done in due form of law. He then added the manner in which the
constable had been received; and stated, distinctly, that Natty had
pointed the rifle at Kirby, and threatened his life if he attempted to
execute his duty. All this was confirmed by Jotham, who was observed to
adhere closely to the story of the magistrate. Mr. Lippet conducted an
artful cross-examination of these two witnesses, but, after consuming
much time, was compelled to relinquish the attempt to obtain any
advantage, in despair.
At length the District Attorney called the wood-chopper to the bar,
Billy gave an extremely confused account of the whole affair, although
he evidently aimed at the truth, until Mr. Van der School aided him, by
asking some direct questions:
“It appears from examining the papers, that you demanded admission
into the hut legally; so you were put in bodily fear by his rifle and
threats?”
“I didn't mind them that, man,” said Billy, snapping his fingers; “I
should be a poor stick to mind old Leather-Stocking.”
“But I understood you to say (referring to your previous words [as
delivered here in court] in the commencement of your testimony) that you
thought he meant to shoot you?”
“To be sure I did; and so would you, too, squire, if you had seen a
chap dropping a muzzle that never misses, and cocking an eye that has
a natural squint by long practice I thought there would be a dust on't,
and my back was up at once; but Leather-Stocking gi'n up the skin, and
so the matter ended.”
“Ah! Billy,” said Natty, shaking his head, “'twas a lucky thought in
me to throw out the hide, or there might have been blood spilt; and I'm
sure, if it had been your'n, I should have mourned it sorely the little
while I have to stay.”
“Well, Leather-Stocking,” returned Billy, facing the prisoner with a
freedom and familiarity that utterly disregarded the presence of the
court, “as you are on the subject it may be that you've no--”
“Go on with your examination, Mr. District Attorney.”
That gentleman eyed the familiarity between his witness and the prisoner
with manifest disgust, and indicated to the court that he was done.
“Then you didn't feel frightened, Mr. Kirby?” said the counsel for the
prisoner.
“Me! no,” said Billy, casting his eyes oven his own huge frame with
evident self-satisfaction; “I'm not to be skeared so easy.”
“You look like a hardy man; where were you born, sir?”
“Varmount State; 'tis a mountaynious place, but there's a stiff soil,
and it's pretty much wooded with beech and maple.”
“I have always heard so,” said Mr. Lippet soothingly. “You have been
used to the rifle yourself in that country.”
“I pull the second best trigger in this county. I knock under to Natty
Bumppo, there, sin' he shot the pigeon.”
Leather-Stocking raised his head, and laughed again, when he abruptly
thrust out a wrinkled hand, and said:
“You're young yet, Billy, and haven't seen the matches that I have; but
here's my hand; I bear no malice to you, I don't.”
Mr. Lippet allowed this conciliatory offering to be accepted, and
judiciously paused, while the spirit of peace was exercising its
influence over the two; but the Judge interposed his authority.
“This is an improper place for such dialogues,” he said; “proceed with
your examination of this witness, Mr. Lippet, or I shall order the
next.”
The attorney started, as if unconscious of any impropriety, and
continued:
“So you settled the matter with Natty amicably on the spot, did you?”
“He gi'n me the skin, and I didn't want to quarrel with an old man; for
my part, I see no such mighty matter in shooting a buck!”
“And you parted friends? and you would never have thought of bringing
the business up before a court, hadn't you been subpoenaed?”
“I don't think I should; he gi'n the skin, and I didn't feel a hard
thought, though Squire Doolittle got some affronted.”
“I have done, sir,” said Mr. Lippet, probably relying on the charge of
the Judge, as he again seated himself, with the air of a main who felt
that his success was certain.
When Mr. Van der School arose to address the jury, he commenced by
saying:
“Gentlemen of the jury, I should have interrupted the leading questions
put by the prisoner's counsel (by leading questions I mean telling him
what to say), did I not feel confident that the law of the land was
superior to any advantages (I mean legal advantages) which he might
obtain by his art. The counsel for the prisoner, gentlemen, has
endeavored to persuade you, in opposition to your own good sense, to
believe that pointing a rifle at a constable (elected or deputed) is
a very innocent affair; and that society (I mean the commonwealth,
gentlemen) shall not be endangered thereby. But let me claim your
attention, while we look over the particulars of this heinous offence.”
Here Mr. Vain der School favored the jury with an abridgment of
the testimony, recounted in such a manner as utterly to confuse the
faculties of his worthy listeners. After this exhibition he closed as
follows: “And now, gentlemen, having thus made plain to your senses the
crime of which this unfortunate man has been guilty (unfortunate both on
account of his ignorance and his guilt), I shall leave you to your own
consciences; not in the least doubting that you will see the importance
(notwithstanding the prisoner's counsel [doubtless relying on your
former verdict] wishes to appear so confident of success) of punishing
the offender, and asserting the dignity of the laws.”
It was now the duty of the Judge to deliver his charge. It consisted
of a short, comprehensive summary of the testimony, laying bare the
artifice of the prisoner's counsel, and placing the facts in so obvious
a light that they could not well be misunderstood. “Living as we do,
gentlemen,” he concluded, “on the skirts of society, it becomes doubly
necessary to protect the ministers of the law. If you believe the
witnesses, in their construction of the acts of the prisoner, it is your
duty to convict him; but if you believe that the old man, who this day
appears before you, meant not to harm the constable, but was acting more
under the influence of habit than by the instigations of malice, it will
be your duty to judge him, but to do it with lenity.”
As before, the jury did not leave their box; but, after a consultation
of some little time, their foreman arose, and pronounced the prisoner
Guilty.
There was but little surprise manifested in the courtroom at this
verdict, as the testimony, the greater part of which we have omitted,
was too clear and direct to be passed over. The judges seemed to have
anticipated this sentiment, for a consultation was passing among them
also, during the deliberation of the jury, and the preparatory movements
of the “bench” announced the coming sentence.
“Nathaniel Bumppo,” commenced the Judge, making the customary pause.
The old hunter, who had been musing again, with his head on the bar,
raised himself, and cried, with a prompt, military tone:
“Here.”
The Judge waved his hand for silence, and proceeded:
“In forming their sentence, the court have been governed as much by the
consideration of your ignorance of the laws as by a strict sense of the
importance of punishing such outrages as this of which you have been
found guilty. They have therefore passed over the obvious punishment of
whipping on the bare back, in mercy to your years; but, as the dignity
of the law requires an open exhibition of the consequences of your
crime, it is ordered that you be conveyed from this room to the public
stocks, where you are to be confined for one hour; that you pay a fine
to the State of one hundred dollars; and that you be imprisoned in the
jail of this county for one calendar month, and, furthermore, that your
imprisonment do not cease until the said fine shall be paid. I feel it
my duty, Nathaniel Bumppo--”
“And where should I get the money?” interrupted the Leather-Stocking
eagerly; “where should I get the money? you'll take away the bounty on
the painters, because I cut the throat of a deer; and how is an old man
to find so much gold or silver in the woods? No, no, Judge; think better
of it, and don't talk of shutting me up in a jail for the little time I
have to stay.”
“If you have anything to urge against the passing of the sentence, the
court will yet hear you,” said the Judge, mildly.
“I have enough to say agin' it,” cried Natty, grasping the bar on which
his fingers were working with a convulsed motion. “Where am I to get
the money? Let me out into the woods and hills, where I've been used to
breathe the clear air, and though I'm threescore and ten, if you've left
game enough in the country, I'll travel night and day but I'll make you
up the sum afore the season is over. Yes, yes--you see the reason of the
thing, and the wicked ness of shutting up an old man that has spent his
days, as one may say, where he could always look into the windows of
heaven.”
“I must be governed by the law--”
“Talk not to me of law, Marmaduke Temple,” interrupted the hunter.
“Did the beast of the forest mind your laws, when it was thirsty and
hungering for the blood of your own child? She was kneeling to her God
for a greater favor than I ask, and he heard her; and if you now say no
to my prayers, do you think he will be deaf?”
“My private feelings must not enter into--”
“Hear me, Marmaduke Temple,” interrupted the old man, with melancholy
earnestness, “and hear reason. I've travelled these mountains when you
was no judge, but an infant in your mother's arms; and I feel as if I
had a right and a privilege to travel them agin afore I die. Have you
forgot the time that you come on to the lake shore, when there wasn't
even a jail to lodge in: and didn't I give you my own bear-skin to sleep
on, and the fat of a noble buck to satisfy the cravings of your hunger?
Yes, yes--you thought it no sin then to kill a deer! And this I did,
though I had no reason to love you, for you had never done anything but
harm to them that loved and sheltered me. And now, will you shut me up
in your dungeons to pay me for my kindness? A hundred dollars! Where
should I get the money? No, no--there's them that says hard things of
you, Marmaduke Temple, but you ain't so bad as to wish to see an old man
die in a prison, because he stood up for the right. Come, friend, let me
pass; it's long sin' I've been used to such crowds, and I crave to be in
the woods agin. Don't fear me, Judge--I bid you not to fear me; for if
there's beaver enough left on the streams, or the buckskins will sell
for a shilling apiece, you shall have the last penny of the fine. Where
are ye, pups? come away, dogs, come away! we have a grievous toil to do
for our years, but it shall be done--yes, yes, I've promised it, and it
shall be done!”
It is unnecessary to say that the movement of the Leather-Stocking was
again intercepted by the constable; but, before he had time to speak, a
bustling in the crowd, and a loud hem, drew all eyes to another part of
the room.
Benjamin had succeeded in edging his way through the people, and was now
seen balancing his short body, with one foot in a window and the other
on a railing of the jury-box. To the amazement of the whole court,
the steward was evidently preparing to speak. After a good deal of
difficulty, he succeeded in drawing from his pocket a small bag, and
then found utterance.
“If-so-be,” he said, “that your honor is agreeable to trust the poor
fellow out on another cruise among the beasts, here's a small matter
that will help to bring down the risk, seeing that there's just
thirty-five of your Spaniards in it; and I wish, from the bottom of my
heart, that they was raal British guineas, for the sake of the old boy.
But 'tis as it is; and if Squire Dickens will just be so good as to
overhaul this small bit of an account, and take enough from the bag to
settle the same, he's welcome to hold on upon the rest, till such time
as the Leather-Stocking can grapple with them said beaver, or, for that
matter, forever, and no thanks asked.”
As Benjamin concluded, he thrust out the wooden register of his arrears
to the “Bold Dragoon” with one hand, while he offered his bag of dollars
with the other. Astonishment at this singular interruption produced
a profound stillness in the room, which was only interrupted by the
sheriff, who struck his sword on the table, and cried: “Silence!”
“There must be an end to this,” said the Judge, struggling to overcome
his feelings. “Constable, lead the prisoner to the stocks. Mr. Clerk,
what stands next on the calendar?”
Natty seemed to yield to his destiny, for he sank his head on his chest,
and followed the officer from the court room in silence. The crowd moved
back for the passage of the prisoner, and when his tall form was seen
descending from the outer door, a rush of the people to the scene of his
disgrace followed.