The town marshall of Skarrow was a very busy man the next morning after
the burgoo, serving warrants on Doctor Hissong and Freeman, summoning
witnesses and a jury, and getting men to serve on a jury in a small
town, where two of its foremost citizens are to stand trial, is a matter
of considerable difficulty. Freeman had only received a slight flesh
wound, and was not confined to his home.
Court was held in the office of Judge Budlong, who acted as prosecuting
attorney, magistrate, writer of wills and general collector of accounts
and rents. An occasional runaway couple, seeking the marriage bond,
added a few dollars to his bank account, for the Judge had a
happy-go-lucky ceremony which did not impress nor detain a restless
lover too seriously with the sanctity of the occasion. There were a few
law books on the table, a heavy tool-chest, where the Judge kept a jug
of white corn whiskey under lock and key. The police Judge, a sort of
hanger-on about town, put a coal of fire in his pipe and said,
"Gentlemen, air you ready to try this case?"
Budlong arose and balanced his ponderous form against the table, holding
a law-book in his hand. The tuft of whiskers on his chin seemed to
quiver into an accompaniment to his words. He began reading in a deep
voice: "Gentlemen of the jury, to enlighten you as to the nature of this
case, I shall read to you under Subdivision V, Section 1165, Kentucky
Statutes: 'If any person shall by fighting, or otherwise unlawfully pull
or put out an eye, cut or bite off the tongue, nose, ear or lip, or cut
or bite off any other limb or member of another person, he shall be
confined in the penetentiary for not less than one, or more than five
years'."
"That law don't seem to apply to this case," said the police-Judge.
"Shut up," said Budlong, "I ain't through. What do you know about law,
anyhow?"
"I ain't very strong on tecknickelties," said the police-Judge, "duly
elected by the voters of this town, I am the Court, and as such I
perpose to perside, and I demand, sah, your respectful recognition of
that fact."
"Duly elected," said Budlong, "because nobody else would have it. But,
gentlemen of the jury, I shall read you Section 1166, which is as
follows, 'If any person shall draw and present a pistol, loaded with
lead or other substance, or shoot at and wound another with the
intention to kill him, so that he does not die thereby, he shall be
confined in the penetentiary not less than one, or more than five years.
There's your law, gentlemen. Call the first witness!"
"Bill Shonts!" called the marshall. Bill came to the chair.
"What's your name?"
"W'y, Jedge, you know my name."
"Answer my question. What's your name?"
"Bill Shonts."
"Where do you live?"
"Sho, Jedge, you've knowed me all my life!"
"That ain't the question. You answer accordin' to the custom of the
court."
"I want you to state what you know about this case."
"Directly, or indirectly, Jedge?"
"Where was you when this difficulty started?"
"Well, sir, I was not in any one certain spot, directly, but indirectly,
I was jest beginnin' to--"
"State where you was at!" thundered Budlong.
"Well, sir, jest at the time of this difficulty, I was jest beginning to
take a nap--"
"Do you mean to say that you was asleep?"
"Not directly, Jedge, but--"
[Illustration: "W'y, Jedge, you know my name."]
"Where was you when the damn lie passed?"
"Jest beginning to move."
"Did you see Doctor Hissong draw a pistol?"
"No, sir, not directly."
"Did you hear a shot?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where was you then?"
"Ramblin' away, sir."
"What do you mean by _ramblin' away_?"
"Runnin', flyin', hittin' the dust."
"Then you don't know who fired first?"
"No, sir, not directly."
"Call Jerry McManus," said Budlong. A red-faced, jovial-looking Irishman
took the chair.
"Where were you when this trouble started, Jerry?"
"Under a sycamore tree, asleep."
"Had you been drinkin'?"
"Yis, sor, thot is to say, accordin' to the liberties av a mon injoyin'
the soshabilities av good company."
"Did you hear the _dam lie_ pass?"
"No, sor, I heard no footsteps av iny sort."
"Did you hear a shot from where you lay?"
"There wor no shot from where I lay. If there wor iny shot from where I
lay, thin I wor already half-shot."
"Wasn't you in a state of intoxication?"
"I wor in the state of Kintucky."
"Stand aside," said Budlong, "Call the next witness." One by one the
witnesses gave their testimony, varying according to the friendly
feeling for the men on trial. At last, Budlong said, "Call Brad
Jackson." Old Brad got in the witness chair and gazed listlessly at the
ceiling.
"Brad, was you present when this difficulty started?"
"No, sah."
"Where was you?"
"In de grove, eatin' soup."
"Where was you when the lie passed?"
"On my way to Doctor Hissong."
"State to the jury what you know about this case."
"Yassir, genelmun, hit remine me uv de time when Kernel Poindexter an'
Mistah Fontaine had a quarrel ovah a fox-chase down in Baton-Rouge--"
"Confine yourself to the case," said Budlong.
"Yassir, thankee, Jedge, en Kernel Poindexter he 'low dat his dawg,
Watercress wuz in de lead, full yelp at de crossin' 'buv de bayou--"
"I don't care nothin' about that fox-chase," shouted Budlong, "You tell
the court what you know about this case."
"Yassir, I'm tryin' to, Marse Jim--en Mistah Brandon Fontaine, you know,
he want one er de ole quality in dat naberhood, he sorter drap in dar,
en pick up a lot er money by sorter tradin' en watchin' 'roun' de edges,
en a kine uv cotton swapper, en wo' fine duds en' de bigges' watch-chain
yo' ever see--"
"Judge, will you pull that old nigger back to this case?" said Budlong.
"In due time, sah, in due time," said the police-Judge, who wanted to
hear the outcome of Brad's story.
"Yassir, en Mistah Brandon Fontaine en Kernel Poindexter, dey met in
front uv de post-office, en Mistah Brandon Fontaine he smokin' a long,
black seegar, en one foot crossed on tuther, en when Kernel Poindexter
come up, Mistah Fontaine say, 'Yo' dawg cut thru en got in de lead,' en
Kernel Poindexter, he look jes ez cool ez a cabbage-leaf, en he say,
'Hit's a scan'lous lie, frum low trash!' Kernel Poindexter done turned
white en his eye wuz all glitter--"
"I told you, for the last time, to tell what you know about this case!"
"Yassir, easy, Marse Jim. Gimme a chanst. En Mr. Brandon Fontaine kinder
thode hi han' behine him, en' Kernel Poindexter crac' erway at him en
bust a bottle uv whiskey inside his pocket en dis hyar Mistah Fontaine,
he showed de _yaller_ jes' lak Mr. Freeman did yestiddy, en he rin so
fas' dat yo' could play checkers on his coat-tail!"
"Stand aside," roared Budlong.
The case went to the jury. That august body retired to deliberate. The
stragglers near the window heard hot words and wrangling in the
jury-room. In the course of an hour, the door opened and the jury filed
in.
"Have you reached a verdict, gentlemen?"
"We have," said the foreman.
"What is it?"
"We don't find no evidence to convict nobody."
"So help me, Caesar!" said Budlong.