"My, my, are you getting all this down in shorthand?" Maw leaned over
and whispered to Marge--being of course obliged to look up, as a child
must do.
"No," Marge whispered back, "it's too tiresome. I'm only making a few
notes of funny people here. The trial itself is commonplace; hopelessly
commonplace. I never saw such a tame crowd--and to think it's right in
the West!"
"Tame, did you say?" Bonnie, on the other side, had caught the word.
"I wonder what you're used to, Marge." She glanced across to where
Butch Cassidy stood leaning against the wall with his hat dangling from
his left hand, his arms folded--with his right hand hidden, Bonnie
observed--and she smiled to herself.
Those tame persons most concerned did not consider the trial a
commonplace affair. Palmer's lawyer was earning his money, and
Palmer had reached the point where he could lean back in his chair
and look the jurymen in the eye--though a close observer would have
noticed that he avoided the judge's cold gaze. It had been proven
beyond a doubt that Palmer had no visible connection with the murder
and robbery. The facts so far as known were in his favor, and his
testimony, given calmly under the adroit questioning of his counsel,
brought to the attention of the jury many points which, though ruled
out after sputters of argument between the lawyers, nevertheless
carried their weight, just as was intended. Melrose was a clever man.
For instance, Palmer was not stopped before he had stated that he knew
nothing whatever of the bank money being hidden on the ledge in his
pasture. He had chosen to use a certain secluded niche in the rocks
as a natural safe, he said. He had never placed much confidence in
Delkin's bank and did not like to keep his last cent there. Something
might happen. He had stored away six thousand dollars in powder kegs,
just in case of need. He had not visited the place for a month. No, he
did not go often to see if his money was safe. Nothing could bother it
unless some one stole it, and he had felt sure that no one knew of the
hiding place.
Yes, he understood that the bank's money and papers had been found
there. He could not account for that, except that Bat Johnson and Ed
White had discovered the place and had hidden the money there because
it was the safest spot they could find. Well, although he had trusted
them, he guessed if they knew he had six thousand dollars hidden away
in there his life wouldn't be any too safe. He had no theory, except
that if they were in a hurry they could have overlooked his money
sacks. He admitted that was unlikely, and repeated that he believed he
would have been killed if he had gone there before they removed the
money.
Yes, he had been told that the money--his money--was gone. He thought
that those who took away the bank money should be held responsible
for his six thousand dollars. They may not have taken it, but they
certainly knew it was there, whereas he had no idea that the bank's
money had been secreted on his ranch in the very place where he had
stored money of his own.
About the boat he was equally outspoken. The men had built a boat in
which to cross the river, where there was a little feed and where stock
occasionally drifted in to graze. Sometimes they mired in the mud while
trying to drink; when the river was low that often happened. They had
built the boat so that they could cross the river and haul out mired
stock. He had never dreamed that it might be used for a more sinister
purpose, but he could see how that would be possible without his
knowledge or approval.
On cross-examination he named approximately the date of his last visit
to the ledge. He had decided to store away six thousand dollars as a
nest egg that could tide him over if hard times came upon him. The last
time he had gone there was in the middle of June, when he had taken
five hundred dollars in gold and put it away with the rest. That amount
just rounded out his six thousand, he said. There had been no occasion
to go there after that.
"Ain't that old pelican the damnedest liar you ever seen, Bud?" Gelle
whispered behind his hand--they having given their testimony and been
dismissed. "Gilt-edged, though. He'll git away with it."
Bud nodded gloomily. He had been watching Butch Cassidy and wishing
hotly that he had a gun. It began to look as though Butch was going to
get away with something--ride off scot-free and leave a smirch on the
good name of the Meadowlark that, in the minds of the Smoky Ford bank's
officers, would be harder to erase than Macbeth's haunting blood stain.
Butch glanced at the two, his light eyes narrowing under frowning
brows. It was evident that Butch also had something on his mind.
Beside him Kid Kern leaned against the wall, careless on the surface,
but never missing a look or a movement anywhere, and paying especial
attention to Butch and Bud.
"Gosh!" Gelle ejaculated under his breath. "Pore old Snowball's goin'
to be pumped dry now--and he don't know a darned thing about nothin'."
"Character witness, maybe," Bud made ironical reply.
"It'll be a pippin," Gelle predicted. "Snowball don't know nothin' good
about that old coot."
Sam rolled his eyes in mental anguish, probably imagining that he
himself was being accused of something. He stuttered and didn't know
anything he was expected to know. He was palpably terrified, and
whenever he caught Palmer's eyes upon him he shrank pitiably in his
chair. And then, mercifully, his wild eyes strayed to Gelle's face and
clung there as to his savior. He blinked, swallowed twice, gripped the
chair arms and began to talk--to his beloved "Mist' Meddalahk", who had
given him human sympathy and a dollar. A question or two he answered
intelligibly. Then, abruptly, his tongue-tied fear dropped from him.
"Yessuh, yessuh, Ah doan' know nuthin' 'bout no doin's mah boss he been
up to. Boss, he want his dinnah awn time--dass all ole Sam consuhmed
about.
"But one mawnin', 'long about noon, heah come dem Meddalahk boys
ridin' and shootin'. Yessuh, Ah 'member what tooken place awn dat
day. Considubble, suh, happens right 'long 'bout dat same time. Mist'
Meddalahk, he come ridin' along, aftuh boss he go awn to town. Yessuh,
boys dey calls 'im Jelly, but Ah doan' see nothin' respeckful 'bout
names lak dat. Ah calls 'im Mist' Meddalahk, an' we talks along an'
talks along, 'bout one thing an' anuthah--yessuh.
"Mist' Jedge, suh, Ah got somethin' awn mah min' don' consuhn yo'all.
Ah been hearin' little sum'fin now an' ag'in 'bout some money what
come up missin', and 'pears lak some gemmen, dey 'clined to think mah
frien', Mist' Meddalahk ovah theah, he done mebby _took_ dat money. Ah
doan' rightly know jes' how dat come about, Mist' Jedge, suh, but Ah'd
lak fo' to tell yo'all--"
"I object, your honor, on the ground that the witness is taking up
valuable time to no purpose," cried Palmer's counsel, springing to his
feet. "Your honor, this witness is incompetent--"
"This witness is trying to tell what he knows about some missing
money," the judge rebuked. "Objection overruled. Go on, Sam. Tell us
all about it. Plenty of time, so long as we get the truth."
"Yessuh, Mist' Jedge, dat what Ah'm comin' to right now. Mist' Jedge,
it come about 'count of ole Blinkah. He go wand'in' off an' Ah hunts
him up, 'cause sometime he jes' go to sleep 'mos' anywhere. Mist'
Meddalahk, he bin gone fuh some time, an' Blinkah, he gone fuh some
time, and Ah jes' starts off lookin' fuh Blinkah. Yessuh, Mist' Jedge,
Ah'm lookin' for Blinkah.
"Time Ah gits down pas' de stable, Mist' Jedge, I seen fo', five men
walkin' crost cow paschuh. Mist' Meddalahk, he's one, Mist' Delkin,
he's one, Mist' Bud, he's one--looks lak mebby Blinkah he down thah
an' mebby sick uh somepin'. So Ah goes awn down, Mist' Jedge, an'--an'
awnes', Mist' Jedge, Ah doan' mean no hahm!
"Ah goes along in some bushes, lak, an' Ah watches t' see what all's
takin' place, 'cause if it's Blinkah an' he's daid, ole Sam he ain't
gwine be dah--no, suh! So, Jedge, 'clah to goodness, dem white folks
dey diggin' aroun' an' talkin' 'bout _money_. Ah crope along, an'
crope along, but Ah doan' see all dat money--no, suh. Ah waits, an' dey
pack off all dey wants, an' Mist' Delkin, he say he leave wha's left.
"Mist' Jedge, Ah been luhned not to wast _nothin'_. Boss, he mighty
p'tic'lah 'bout wastin' _nothin'_. Dey takes all dey wants, Jedge, and
den Ah goes an' looks, and 'clah t' goodness, Ah seen _gol'_ money lef'
right dah! Mus' be fo' five dollahs. Ah--Ah tuk it, Mist' Jedge. Ah got
it in mah baid, upstairs. Cawdin' t' what Ah huhd, Mist' Jedge, dat
money consuhms mah friend, Mist' Meddalahk."
"Whoo-_eee_!" yipped Gelle, before he could stop himself, and caught
the stern yet understanding eye of the judge and subsided, red to
collar and hair line.
"That's the first dramatic moment I've seen since I came West," Marge
confided to Bonnie, who was biting her under lip and staring straight
before her, to where Bud's head had lifted and turned, his eyes seeking
hers. Bonnie's eyes were bright and her lashes were wet, and she did
not hear a word of what Marge was saying.
The sheriff was mumbling that there would be a recess of ten minutes.
Bonnie stood up, helping Maw into the aisle. She was going to Bud. It
was almost as if Bud had been cleared of some criminal charge--as if he
had been the prisoner before the bar. But when she had taken a step or
two down the aisle, Bonnie stopped, a queer little sound in her throat
that may have been a laugh or a sob, or both. She turned and caught Maw
by the arms and lifted.
"Stand on the seat, Maw, and look over there! He's going straight to
Butch--to beg his pardon. Oh, isn't that the most splendid thing you
ever saw?"
Maw, up on the seat, looked in the wrong direction and never knew it,
because her eyes were so full of tears she could not have seen Bud
anyway.
"Yes, it's grand," she quavered. "Larkie and Bud are good boys--"
"Say, Maw," Lark leaned over her shoulder to shout, "that coon's goin'
to spend the rest of his days at the Meddalark and help you cook. Darn
his black hide--and Butch too. He ast me fer a job and I turned him
down cold. Lemme past, will yuh, Bonnie? I want to ketch him b'fore he
gits outside. My Jonah, about the worst thing can happen a feller is to
be accused of somethin' he ain't guilty of. Hey, Butch! Butch! Bud! You
'n' Butch come awn over here! These wimmin has got me penned up here
like a pet calf!"
"Moses, what a jam!" quaked Maw, when a dozen persons in her immediate
vicinity began milling aimlessly in the aisle. "Larkie, I just hope
Palmer gits let out. I don't believe any man on earth would lie like
that under oath and all, and if he was tellin' the truth, he ain't no
more guilty than I be."
"I don't think he is guilty at all," Marge complained. "I came clear up
here to see a man sentenced to be hanged by the neck--oh, where? That
handsome fellow over there? Lynched! Was he really? I wonder if some
one can introduce him to me. Lark, will you--"
"Oh, Maw," cried Lark into the babel, "we got a new lark to set and
chirp on our bough. Butch is goin' to start in quick as we git back."
"I'm real glad," said Maw, grinning vacantly with her teeth comfortably
reposing in her pocket. "I wisht, Larkie, you could find somethin'
for that poor old Blinker to do. Seems a shame--they say Palmer's
bargainin' already t' sell out an' leave the country quick as they let
him go--"
"Well," young Bud's voice rose cheerfully above the clamor, "Butch, you
and I will have to go swimming first chance we get. How about it?"
"Gosh, let's _all_ go," cried Gelle exuberantly.
"Me, I'll take mine in good ole Metropole," Bob pushed up and confided
in Gelle's ear. "They say it's a cinch, now, that Palmer'll be cleared.
Guess the old coot's got it comin'."
"Well, I'm real glad," Maw repeated. "It would be awful, wouldn't it,
to think little Skookum's grandpa was a murderer? I guess they's good
in all of us if it only gets a chance."
"Come on, girls--and that means you, too, Maw. It's all over now but
the shouting, and I'm too dry to shout. Let's round up Lightfoot, and
all go hunt that drug store. What do you say?"
"I say that means you want to get Bonnie out of here," Marge retorted.
"I'd rather go with the other boys and Maw. I want to ask Butch a lot
of questions, anyway."
"Ask me, little pilgress, why don't you? I could answer more questions
a minute--if you asked 'em--than you could ask Butch in a year."
"Oh, all right. I don't think Butch heard me, anyway. Come on, Maw."
At the steps, Bud and Bonnie looked back and saw them coming; smiled
and nodded, caught a warning scowl from Gelle and decided they would
not wait.
* * * * *
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