BREAKING THE STATUTES
_Kate's Narrative_
At Hundred Mile House the long table had been removed from the dining
hall, the benches set back to the log walls, and at the head of the room
an enormous Union Jack draped a very small portrait of Queen Victoria.
Beneath was the chair, in front of it a table set with writing materials
and the Bible, while at one end the schoolma'am looked very
self-conscious as clerk, in official black, with large red bows like
signals of distress.
On the right sat Iron Dale, Jesse, and myself, and all our posse, very
ill at ease. On the left were two gaunt American stockmen, both wearing
hats, while one had the star of a United States marshal. Beside them sat
the general public, consisting of Tearful George, two ranch-hands, an
Indian, and the captain's bulldog. Wee James, the captain's grandson,
sat with the dog at first, but presently he interrupted the court to
say that he would like to sit on me. He sat with considerable weight for
so small a person.
At Captain Taylor's entrance the constable ordered us all to stand.
Every inch a naval officer, bluff, ruddy, cheery, choleric, frightfully
impressive in a frock coat, he wore a Russian order slung by a ribbon at
his throat, and a little row of miniature war medals, the ribbons, alas,
too small to show me of which campaigns. At sight of the two strangers
he mounted a single eye-glass, and stared with growing wrath until they
removed their hats. Then, taking the chair, he permitted us to be seated
and ordered his constable to "Bring the prisoners aft."
Had our captives been washed and brushed, they might not have looked so
wretched or so guilty. Old O'Flynn, described by Jesse as Whiskers, with
his head in a blood-stained bandage, his right hand in a gory
handkerchief, looked so ill that he was given a seat. The Mexican, whose
beautiful leather dress, and soft dark eyes reminded me sharply of the
opera-house, seemed like a trapped wolf, only thinking of escape to the
nearest woods. Bull Durham's swaggering gallantry was marred by obvious
traces of the flour sack wherein he had been immersed by his disgusted
chief, and the shower of rain which followed.
"Prisoners," said the magistrate.
At that moment the United States marshal squirted tobacco juice,
adroitly hitting a spittoon distant some fourteen feet.
"Constable," said the magistrate austerely, "remove that person until he
has washed his mouth." Every man present had been furtively chewing
tobacco, but no one who knew Captain Taylor in his official mood would
have presumed to spit. Every jaw became rigid, every eye looked
reproachfully at the marshal, who rose protesting in stately sentences
that he represented the majesty of the people.
"Take his majesty out," said the captain with dreadful calmness, "and
put him under the pump."
The representative of the stock associations rose to support his
countryman.
"Clap them in irons," said the captain. "I'll have no spitting on my
quarter deck."
Jesse and Dale rose to assist the constable, and for some stirring
moments we were threatened with international complications. Then in his
quaint slow drawl my husband obtained leave to address the magistrate.
"I got an American book right here," said he, "in my hind pocket. It's
called _Deportment for Gents_. In real high-toned society, this
Honeypott claims that Amurrican gentlemen chews, but reserves the juice
until they happens on a yaller dawg. Then they assists that dawg with
his complexion."
The marshal stooped to pet the captain's bulldog.
"I'd help this yaller purp," said he, with a grave smile, "if I'd
thicker pants."
The captain chuckled and the case went on, our visitors having "allowed
that they didn't propose to chew in a court of justice."
"Prisoners," said our justice of the peace, laying his hand on the
Bible, "this book contains the only law I know. I'm not here as judge or
lawyer, but as one of Her Majesty's officers trusted to do the sporting
thing, and to deal fairly and squarely with three innocent men who have
the misfortune to be charged with crime. You've only to prove to me that
you're innocent, and I have power to let you go free. But I warn you to
tell the truth."
"Seems a square deal, Cap," said Whiskers.
"It is a square deal. Now, would you like to have some one of your
countrymen as prisoners' friend?"
Whiskers looked reproachfully at the United States marshal who demanded
his extradition, and the representative of stock associations who
offered fabulous rewards for his body "dead or alive."
"Wall," he drawled, "not exactly."
"You other prisoners. Do you accept this man as your spokesman?"
"_Si_, senor."
"That's all right," said Bull.
"Prisoner O'Flynn, you are charged with assaulting a woman, you others
with aiding and abetting. Guilty or not guilty?"
"It's a fact," said Whiskers sadly, "and all three of us wishes to say
what's got to be said"--he drew himself up to his full height--"by
gentlemen! We tried to force a lady to give her husband away. She shamed
us, and we honors Mrs. Smith for what she done. She told us to go to
blazes. Yes, sir! We just owns up that we're guilty as hell, as the best
way of showing our respect."
"Gentlemen," Captain Taylor spoke very gently. "I understand that you,
O'Flynn, received two wounds in punishment, and that two of your
comrades were killed by the men who avenged this affront. Is that true?"
"It's a fact."
"The verdict of the court is, 'not guilty.'
"But prisoner, your confession proves the right of the settlers to
organize for defense of the settlement until the constable could be
brought to their help. All you settlers who have taken part in the
capture of these prisoners are engaged by the province as special
constables from the day you undertook service, until I give you your
discharge. You will be paid on such a scale as I direct.
"Rudolf Schweinfurth."
The marshal came forward and was sworn.
"You are a United States marshal?"
"Yes, your honor."
"You submit proof?"
The marshal's credentials were read.
"You claim these prisoners for extradition?"
"Yes, sir."
"Sit down. Cyrus Y. Jones." The other stockman was sworn. "You are
representative of certain stock associations and submit proof? Right.
You claim certain cattle alleged to be stolen, and found in possession
of the prisoners? Right. You submit photographs identifying certain of
these cattle and evidence of theft. And you offer twenty-five thousand
dollars' reward for recovery of the stock. Pay that money into court and
take my receipt.
"Prisoners, you are charged in your own country with robbery-under-arms
and homicide in various degrees. Now, I don't pretend to understand to
what particular degree you may or may not have murdered people, but it
seems to me that being killed even to a very slight extent must be
damned inconvenient. I don't want to know whether you're guilty or not
guilty, because it's no business of mine. I do know that this official
who claims you represents the republic. I have plenty of evidence that
you were found in this country under suspicious circumstances, and that
you proceeded to make yourselves a general nuisance. If I committed you
for vagrancy or assault, it would delay you in a business which you must
have deeply at heart. I know that if I were charged with a tenth part of
these crimes I'd never sleep until I proved my innocence. Do you or do
you not wish to prove your innocence?"
The prisoners scratched their heads.
"Marshal," said the magistrate. "I don't know what my powers are in this
matter, but it's evident that the less red tape there is the sooner
these men will get the justice they rightly demand. I don't want them.
Give me a receipt and engage what men you need for escort duty. You, Mr.
Representative, give me your receipt for the cattle. Now clear out, and
get to the States before you're interfered with by any lop-eared
officials. Constable, hand over your prisoners.
"Mr. Dale and Mr. Smith, will you trust me as magistrate to make a fair
division of this reward? All right. One-quarter goes to Dale,
one-quarter to Smith, and the other half to be equally divided among
you. Is that fair? All right, here's the plunder. Let's get the table in
and dinner served. I'm famished."
So the court rose, and the dear old captain, having, I believe, broken
every statute in British Columbia jurisprudence, asked all hands and the
prisoners to dinner. "Of course," he said afterward to Jesse, "I ought
to have committed you and Dale to trial for homicide, fined you all
round for using guns without a license, turned the lawyers loose on a
fat extradition case, and impounded the cattle to eat my grass at
government expense. As it is, I'll be hanged, drawn, and quartered by
the politicians, damned by the press, and jailed for thrashing editors.
And I missed all the fun."
After dinner the crowd broke up into little groups. In one corner the
American officials were bargaining with Mr. Dale for his Sky-line men to
ride with the prisoners and the cattle. By the door stood Mr. Brooke,
explaining something at great length to our bored constable. At the head
of the long table Captain Taylor was telling me how difficult it was to
find a suitable nursery governess for Wee James. At the foot of the
table I saw the Mexican whispering to his unfortunate chief--plans for
escape, no doubt. Then Jesse joined them, with a present of pipes,
matches, and tobacco to ease their journey.
"Mr. Smith," said poor old O'Flynn, "this yere Sebastian Diaz has been
with me these twelve year. He's only a greaser--"
"_Medio Sangre_, senor!" said the half-breed proudly.
"But he's got the heart of a white man. He's like a son to me."
"I'm proud," said Jesse, "to make your acquaintance, both of you. You
are men, all right."
"We fought the rich men what had wronged us, them and their breed. We
put up a good fight. Yes, sir! And we wouldn't have missed a mile of
that twelve years' trail. It wasn't our way to insult women, Mr. Smith."
"You had to git that information somehow," said Jesse, "and Mrs. Smith
forgives you."
The old man bowed his head.
"Muchos gracias, caballero!" said the Mexican, gently.
"That's off our minds, Mr. Smith."
"Mostly known as Jesse," said my husband.
"Jesse. We bin consulting, and we agree you're the only man here we'd
care to ask favors of."
"I'm your friend all right."
"Jesse, if we don't escape, we are due to pass in our chips."
"I'm not going to help you escape."
"Wall, you haven't helped our escape to any great extent, so far as I
know."
Jesse chuckled.
"But I'm asking you to look after my wife and my son."
"I'll do that."
"You'll save the boy from his father's trade?"
"I reckon."
"Put her thar."
And they shook hands.
"Them horses we was riding," said the outlaw, "is for my son."
"That's all right."
"And one thing more. This yere Brooke ain't white."
"You don't say!"
The outlaw grinned. "You sized him up all right. He joined us out of a
Wild West show last fall. He's never done nothin' to earn hanging or
jail, being too incompetent. But he's state's evidence enough to hang us
twenty times over. He'll get off.
"Moreover, Jesse, take a dying man's word. That Brooke has an eye on
your good lady. He's your enemy from times far back at Abilene. He'll
live to do you dirt. Thar, I sort of hates to talk so of one of my men,
and I won't say no more.
"Say, my hands being hurt, will you just reach into my off hind pocket?
That's right. There's a gold watch. Take it, my time's up. Give that to
your lady from us as a sort of keepsake. Good-by, partner."
"Good-by, friend."
"_Adios_," said the Mexican. "_Vaya usted con Dios!_" And the English of
that is, "May you ride with God!"
From the other end of the room Captain Taylor and I were watching that
little scene. Without hearing a word we could understand so well. "Young
woman," said the captain, "when I was a younger fool than I am now, I
was a naval attache at St. Petersburg. I'd seen how the Russian Bear
behaved at Sebastopol and I liked to watch how he behaved in the Winter
Palace. One day a Cossack officer and his son came to make an appeal.
Mrs. officer had been a puss and bolted with one of the court officials,
so her husband and son wanted leave to go after the man with their guns.
They were so miserable that they sat at a table and took no notice of
anybody or anything. After they'd been sitting a long time, a man came
and laid down a case of dueling pistols on the table beside them. I
couldn't hear what he said, but he sat down with them. Presently I saw
him shake hands with the general.
"Now your husband put something on the table, and sat down with those
wretched prisoners, and presently shook hands with one of them.
"Your husband and that Russian chap did the very same things in the very
same way. Yes, you've married a gentleman by mistake."
I was puzzled. "Who was the Russian?" I asked.
"Oh, didn't I tell you? He was the emperor."
After a minute, while I watched my royal man, the captain laid his hand
on mine. "Don't let these loafers see you crying," he whispered.
"I'm not crying." I looked round to prove that I was not crying, and as
I did so, my glance fell upon the old man's miniature medals. One of
them was the Victoria Cross.