but we may say, without undue self glorification, that it was the
thoroughness of the journalistic work of this paper that made the
description of the robber available, and that this capture is therefore
exclusively due to the enterprise of _The Index_. Our circulation covers
the entire county. Our advertising rates will be found on another page.
Our subscription rates are two dollars a year, cash, or two fifty in
produce—strictly in advance.
“Col. Peets claims to be an ex-officer in the Rebel Army. He bears a bad
reputation along the river, and is said to be a man of immoral
character.
“The prisoner was securely lodged in the county jail, and, after the
usual legal forms, he was brought before the Justice of the Peace for
preliminary hearing.
“When the morning of the examination came, the court was thronged as it
never has been before. The ladies crowded the room as they had never
done at any court during our existence as a county, while the trial
progressed, manifesting a strange interest, which has never been
exhibited till now, for or against any prisoner. And yet not so strange,
for a remarkable prisoner appeared before them. He was tall, strongly
built, with a heavy moustache, and pale—as though just recovering from
an illness—marked in his individualities, a man of martial bearing, whom
one would expect to recognize among ten thousand.
“Every female eye was uninterruptedly focussed on this striking looking
man during the entire hearing. He was claimed to be the same stranger
who had blown open the safe and abstracted the seven thousand dollars of
the county’s money. The loss will of course have to be made good by the
treasurer or his bondsmen, if the plunder is not recovered from the
thief, and much sympathy is felt for the Hon. Truman W. Pettibone, who
has long borne an enviable and unsullied reputation in our midst.
“Several of the ladies present were to appear among the witnesses in
behalf of the state and for the defense. The question under
consideration was the identity of this tall mysterious looking prisoner
and that tall disguised stranger who was unquestionably responsible
before the law for the astounding burglary.
“The counsel for the state was the Hon. John Wesley Watts, our brilliant
and alert county attorney. The prisoner was represented by W. St. John
Hopkins, whose very name smacks of irreverence for the Holy Writ. He is
a young aspiring sprig of the law who has recently come into our midst.
“It seems that this man Hopkins, who parts both his name and his hair in
the middle, volunteered to defend the prisoner without compensation,
probably for the purpose of showing off his talents. The prisoner was
without counsel, and claimed to have no funds with which to hire one.
They seemed to be suspiciously good friends in court. Whether or not a
part of the loot from the exploded safe has covertly changed hands in
payment for certain legal services during the past few days, it is not
within the province of this paper to determine, or even hint.
“The examination continued during Wednesday and Thursday, excellent
order prevailing in the court room. Many citizens gave strong testimony
both for and against the prisoner. The public were deeply interested in
the solution of the question, and there were strong and conflicting
opinions as to the identity of the prisoner in the minds of all present.
The progress of the examination, as numerous witnesses were examined who
had seen the prowling and disguised stranger, and who now saw the
prisoner, brought distinctly to notice the great difference which exists
in the observing power of different individuals. Many thought that if
the prisoner had on a gray coat, and had a long chin beard, in addition
to his moustache, they could absolutely swear to his identity. Others
thought that the stranger had worn false whiskers and had particularly
noticed it at the time.
“J. Milton Tuttle did not think that the chin whiskers were false, or
that the prisoner was the man who left the tin box for safe keeping. He
was quite positive that he would recognize the man if he ever saw him
again.
“Miss Anastasia Simpson, the unmarried lady, whose eyes were glued on
the mystic stranger in the vicinity of the court house, and whose eyes
were glued on the prisoner during the entire course of the trial, swore
absolutely that he was not the same man. Possibly the reasons that
prompted such positive testimony may be best known to herself.
“The prisoner, under the whispered advice of young Hopkins, declined to
go upon the stand, which in itself, in the opinion of most of those
present, was conclusive evidence of guilt.
“The state’s attorney made an able and scholarly address to the court,
and presented a masterly review of the evidence.
“Hopkins contented himself with claiming that no evidence had been
adduced to justify the court in holding his client. No false whiskers or
gray coat had been produced, and no witness had positively sworn to the
prisoner’s identity. On the contrary, the only witness who had conversed
with the alleged robber, Mr. J. Milton Tuttle, had failed to connect him
with the crime, and Miss Simpson, who had long and carefully observed
both men, had declared under her solemn oath that they were not the
same.
“He claimed that the cord that held his client was a rope of sand, and
had the effrontery to comment sarcastically on the account of the
pursuit of the flying burglar that appeared exclusively in our last
week’s issue. He indulged in sardonic levity at the expense of the
public-spirited posse, and remarked that it was queer that its dog had
shown a preference for the society of an alleged thief. He suggested
that the two bales of hay, that were retained on the pursuit wagon, were
better adapted for food for the posse than for a barricade.
“The outburst of indecent laughter that greeted this impudent sally was
promptly suppressed by the court, who threatened to clear the room if
anything of the kind was repeated. The court sternly rebuked the
offending attorney, and cautioned him to confine his remarks strictly to
the merits of the case before the court.
“Hopkins apologized to the court and claimed that humor was a malady of
his early youth and that he had never been entirely cured.
“The court retired to its library and took the case under advisement for
an hour, during which time the crowd waited in anxious suspense. When
the court returned it held Col. Peets to the Circuit Court—placing his
recognizance at three thousand dollars, in default of which the prisoner
was remanded to the custody of the sheriff.
“Much satisfaction was expressed at the decision of the court. Judge
Mark W. Giddings, our able and learned Justice of the Peace, is a man of
lofty attainments and an ornament to the bench. He has one of the finest
law libraries in the county. He is of fine old New England stock, his
ancestors having come over in the Mayflower. He is one of the oldest and
most valued subscribers to this newspaper.
“The press forms of this issue of our paper were held until proceedings
in this case were disposed of, that the inchoate attorney representing
the prisoner, began before the court now in session at the court house.
“He asked for a writ of _habeas corpus_, and his client has been turned
loose on the community!
“We may say, that while it may be that no jury would have convicted this
man Peets, who admits that he was once an enemy of his country, and
while the testimony was strongly conflicting, the opinion is strong in
this community that the honorable Justice of the Peace rendered a
perfectly just decision.
“The opinions of this journal have always been impartial, and, under the
circumstances it is far be it from us to express one, but not to mention
any names, there is a certain fresh young lawyer in this town who has a
tendency to be a smarty, and a cute Aleck, and to butt in on things that
do not concern him.
“It may be to his interest to lay a little lower. A word to the wise is
sufficient.
“In addition to this, there is a certain alien resident in this county,
of military pretensions, who lives by the sobbing waters of a certain
river—and again we do not mention names—who had better not be caught
wearing false whiskers when he visits this town.”
“And now,” said the Colonel, with a patronizing wave of his hand after
he had given me a still later copy of the paper, “I desiah you to look
at this account of the sequel of this distressing affaiah.”
On the editorial page I read:
“A PUBLIC OUTRAGE!!!
“It is far from the desire of this journal to discuss the personal
interests or affairs of its editor and proprietor. _The Index_, as the
public well knows, has ever been the fearless advocate of fair play for
every citizen, and for every human being, however humble, before the
law. Its motives have always been above reproach. Notwithstanding the
fact that it is the county’s greatest newspaper—unselfishly devoted to
the public interest—it never blows its own horn. It rarely mentions
itself in its own columns. It scorns to publish matter in its own
interest, but the time has come when its clarion voice must be raised to
such a pitch that it may be heard throughout the length and breadth of
the county, so that the public conscience may be awakened, and forever
make impossible a repetition of such an outrage as occurred in front of
the post office on last Saturday afternoon.
“As is well known by all, the editor of this paper, who is also its
proprietor, was publicly attacked by Col. Peets, the scoundrel and
erstwhile prisoner at the bar of justice, who figured so prominently and
so exclusively in the affair of the robbery of the safe in the county
treasurer’s office some weeks ago.
“A handful of our whiskers was seized and twisted away by this vile
miscreant, with the supposedly funny remark that he wanted them for a
disguise.
“We were forced to our knees on the dirty sidewalk and commanded to
apologize for certain statements that have appeared in our paper.
“We were belabored with a rawhide whip and kicked into the gutter by
this burly old brute.
“As humiliating as these things are it is necessary to mention them in
order to properly lay before the public the frightful enormity of the
outrage.
“It is, and always has been the policy of this paper, to hew to the line
and let the chips fall where they may. _The Index_ thinks before it
strikes, and it never retracts.
“If editors are to be publicly assaulted—if their persons are not
sacred—if the freedom of the press is to be trammelled and muzzled by
supposed private rights of individuals, and their likes and dislikes—if
publishers are to be beaten up or beaten down with impunity, or with
rawhide whips, and are to be coerced into cowardly silence by fear of
personal violence—then our republic, with its vaunted ideals, is a
stupendous failure.
“Far be it from us to complain, or put forth our private wrongs, but we
consider that we have been a martyr to the lawlessness of this
community, and to the fearless and outspoken attitude of our paper.
“An attack upon the person of the editor of a newspaper is an attack
upon the sacred foundations of human liberty.
“The public will be glad to know that the execrable villain and ruffian,
who assaulted us, is now immured in the county jail, where he was sent
by that wise and upright Justice of the Peace, the Hon. Mark W.
Giddings.
“It is to be devoutly hoped that when the term of his just imprisonment
expires, his presence in the county will be no longer tolerated.
“For the miserable cowards and loafers who witnessed the premeditated
violence upon us in front of the post office, and did not interfere,
this paper has the most withering contempt. Their craven names are
known, and this journal will remember them.
“To Constable Hawkins, who arrested the assailant, this paper—on behalf
of the public—extends its thanks. Constable Hawkins is an officer of
whom our town may well be proud. We wish him a long life of health and
happiness. We may mention, parenthetically, that Constable Hawkins and
his charming wife Sundayed with us two weeks ago and a delightful time
was had by one and all.
“To the misguided and mentally unbalanced females, who are daily sending
flowers and sundry cooked dainties to the county jail, this paper has
nothing to say. With the exception of one of them, who was a witness at
the trial, and who shall here be nameless, they all have male relatives
whose duty is plain. The names of these women are known and will be
preserved in the archives of this paper for future reference. There are
certain rumors being whispered about on our streets, that, from high
motives of public policy, will not find a place in our columns until
later.
“The sheriff is being quietly and severely criticized by many citizens,
whose good opinion is worth something to him at election time, for
permitting these indulgences to a criminal in his charge.
“We have always given our unqualified support to Sheriff Butts when he
has been a candidate, and we hope that we will not be compelled to
change our opinion regarding his fitness for the office. He will do well
to ponder. The eye of _The Index_ is upon him.
“The editor of this paper is pleased to announce, to relieve the public
mind, that we are recovering from our undeserved injuries, and will soon
be ourselves again. We feel deeply indebted to Dr. Ignace Stitt for the
wonderful professional skill with which he attended us. The Doctor’s
practice is increasing rapidly, and he is now the foremost physician in
our county. His office is over Ed Bang’s drug store, and he is among the
most valued subscribers of this paper.
“We and our wife thank our kind friends who have sent us watermelons,
and other delicacies, during our confinement.
“As a stern challenger of injustice, and an alert defender of the right,
_The Index_ will ever, as in the past, be in the forefront. Its battle
axe will gleam in the turmoil of the conflict, and on it will shine our
mottos—_Sic Semper Tyrannis_, and _Honi soit qui mal y pense_.”
I laid the paper down with the conviction that if the Colonel’s life
previous to his arrival in the river country had been as rapid as he had
been living it since he came, his “memoahs” would be quite a large
volume.
“Now, suh,” said he, “I want to relate to you the inside history of that
robbery, suh. I want to show you how it is possible foh a puffectly
innocent man, with puffectly good intentions, to get into a predicament
in this Gawd fo’saken no’the’n country.
“I was of co’se compelled, much against my wish, to hawss-whip the
editah of that rotten sheet. He was not a gentleman and I could not
challenge him, suh, and it was matteh of pussonal honah. The facts ah
substantially as he states in that sizzling angel song that you have
just read.
“I want to say, suh, that I nevah spent a moah pleasant thi’ty days in
my life than I spent in that jail. I was theah in a good cause, and I am
sorry it was not sixty days. The sheriff treated me with puffect
cou’tesy, and I was called on and congratulated by many people who had
strong private opinions of that editah.
“Those noble women made my incahceration a pleasuah, and I may say, suh,
without vanity, that I have nevah been oblivious or insensible to the
effect that I have always had upon ladies. Soft and beseeching eyes have
been cast upon me all my life, suh. I discovered in that jail that iron
bars cannot destroy beautiful visions.
“I was provided with papeh, and I was enabled to do a great deal of wo’k
on my memoahs, and I have included in them the events of the past few
months, but what I sta’ted to tell you was the unrevealed facts of that
robbery, suh.
“In odeh that you may get a clear idea of just what happened, I must
take you back to the awful days of ouah wah. Theah was a high bo’n
southe’n gentleman in my regiment, suh, named Majah Speed. He came f’om
one of the best families in Tennessee. Theah was a most unfo’tunate
pussonal resemblance between us, and even when we were togetheh, ouah
best friends could ha’dly tell us apaht. In o’deh not to continue to
embarrass ouah friends, we drew straws to decide who should raise a chin
bea’d in addition to his moustache. The Majah lost, and I still have my
military moustache without any hawsstail whiskehs to spoil it. I may
say, suh, that I have no doubt that my moustache had its effect in
making my stay at the jail delightful.
“The Majah and I have always kept ouah correspondence up. He came to see
me just befoah that explosion at the cou’t house. He was in that town
when it took place, and he was the man who was pussued by that posse and
that damn dawg, whose favah he won with a piece of bologna sausage.
“Afteh the Majah entered the ma’sh he came directly to my house and
explained the whole affaiah. We sunk the boat he came in with some
stones in the rivah.
“That infe’nal Milt Tuttle, who was the cle’k in the treasurer’s office,
was the scoundrel that got the money. His folks came f’om Tennessee, and
he knew the Majah. He was aweah that the Majah’s circumstances weah much
reduced, and that he had lost what he had left in the wo’ld at ca’ds. He
knew that the Majah would do almost anything to retrieve his fo’tunes.
The love of money was always the trouble with the Majah, but we all have
to be tolerant of the weaknesses of ouah friends, suh.
“That scoundrel Milt Tuttle sent money to Tennessee foh my friend the
Majah to come up heah. He did not know me, or that I knew the Majah.
When the Majah came no’th he came directly to see me and spent several
days at my place. We went down on the ma’sh togetheh. He told me about
Milt Tuttle and said he would come back and pay me a longeh visit a
little lateh.
“My friend Majah Speed went to the county seat, and the da’k scoundrelly
plan of Milt Tuttle was laid befoah him. In a moment of weakness the
Majah fell, and consented to blow open that safe and divide what he
found with Milt Tuttle. The tools and the explosive compound were hidden
in the office by Milt Tuttle, and during several visits he explained to
the Majah how he was to proceed. He gave him a duplicate key to the side
entrance of the office around the end of the hall, and a map of the
route he was to take afteh he had finished his wo’k, and on this map was
the place wheah he was to leave half of what he found in the safe. He
was to cross the ma’sh and make his way south to Tennessee afteh it was
all oveh.
“You can imagine the astonishment and chagrin of the Majah when he found
the safe empty of funds, afteh he had wo’ked all day to blow it open. He
was ho’nswoggled by this infe’nal thief of a Milt Tuttle. He had taken
ev’ry cent befoah the Majah came, and left the Majah in the lu’ch to
face all the consequences, and to get away the best he could.
“When the Majah came to me that night, and told me his tale, I was
astounded. Of co’se I do not approve of robbery, but the Majah had
committed no robbery. He had taken absolutely nothing f’om that safe,
and he was as innocent of robbery as a child unbawn. Milt Tuttle was the
thief, and on his ill gotten wealth he went off somewheah fo’ his
health, but he was stricken by a vengeful providence with pneumonia, and
he is now dead, and theah is no way of proving his dasta’dly connection
with the affaiah.
“I told the Majah that he had been made a cat’s paw, and that he had
betteh go home as fast as he could. He was without funds, and,
unfo’tunately, I did not have any to lend him, so he sta’ted fo’ the
south on foot. That was the last I saw of the Majah, and I had a letteh
f’om one of the fo’mah officers of ouah regiment, that the Majah is now
dead. I assume, suh, that he died of a broken heaht, all on account of
the villainy of that dehty thief of a Milt Tuttle.
“When I was unjustly and unfo’tunately dragged into that affaiah, I
could have told the whole story, but I felt bound to protect my friend
the Majah, who fought undeh me fo’ foah yeahs. He twice saved my life on
the field, and foah such a man, no matteh what his failings might be, I
was bound to make any sacrifice. I could have gone on the stand and
pointed my fingah at the thief, but of what avail? The attorney who
represented me in those disgraceful proceedings advised me to keep my
seat, as the state had no case whateveh. That mutton headed old bi’led
owl that was supposed to be a cou’t, bound me oveh, but I was soon
released, and my friend’s secret was not in jeopa’dy.
“I have now expiated the penalty of the No’the’n law fo’ whipping that
rascally editeh. My atto’ney also pounded him to a jelly. It is my
intention to hawss-whip Tipton Posey, foah he was the one that sta’ted
the talk that resulted in all those legal proceedings, and during the
thi’ty days that I am in jail foah that, it is my intention to complete
my novel, in which, as I told you, is to be woven my memoahs.
“It is a good thing fo’ Milt Tuttle that he had pneumonia, foah if he
was not deceased I would fill him full of holes fo’ the dishonah he
brought on my friend the Majah, and then I would leave the no’th
fo’evah.
“I shall nevah blacken the memory of Majah Speed by using his name with
the story of the blowing open of the safe in my book. I shall use
anotheh name, suh, and his secret shall be fo’evah safe and his memory
will be unta’nished, fo’ the Majah nevah stole a dollah. He can stand
befoah that greateh cou’t, wheah he has now gone, with a guiltless and
stainless soul.”
I was much interested in the Colonel’s narrative, and after talking over
some of the details, we retired for the night.
I had quietly enjoyed the naive reasoning, and the chivalrous devotion
of the Colonel to his war time friend. There was pathos in the tale of
sacrifice, and, several times I saw moisture in the old soldier’s eyes,
as he dilated upon the cruelty of his position in the affair of the
safe.
His conceptions of right and wrong were refreshing, and his penchant for
taking the law into his own hands was evidently going to get him into
more predicaments, but it was useless to argue with him. I felt sorry
about Posey’s coming castigation, but as Tip was abundantly able to take
care of himself, I concluded not to worry over it.
On our way down the river the next morning, the Colonel reverted to
Major Speed’s ill-starred visit.
“I presume that you would think, suh, that the interests of the living
ah paramount to those of the dead, and that I ought to tell Majah
Speed’s story to the world. His memory and the memory of that black
heahted vahlet, Milt Tuttle, would suffeh, and Tuttle’s ought to suffeh,
but my vindication would be complete. Natu’ally I do not enjoy being
looked at askance, and I sometimes think that I ought to remove the
stigma that now rests on my name.”
I advised him to let matters remain as they were, inasmuch as he could
produce no proof of the facts, and little would be gained by stirring up
the affair.
“But I do not need proof of facts, they would have my wo’d of honah,
suh!”
I explained the uncertain value of a “wo’d of honah” in that part of the
country. I refrained from telling him that I thought his reputation
would not be much improved by his explanation, for he would at least
still be regarded as an “accessory after the fact” because of his
admission of the protection to Speed.
“By the way, Colonel,” I asked, in order to change the subject, “what
did you finally do about Pud Calkins?”
“Pud Calkins? I killed him, suh, at Vicksbu’g. That cuss disappeahed
entiahly f’om from memoahs while I was in jail, and I assuah you, suh,
that I heaved a sigh of relief when that man fell. I can now go ahead
with my combination novel and memoahs without his bobbing up and down in
the plot every time I sit down to write.”
It occurred to me that the casualties among those whom the fates whirled
into the Colonel’s orbit were becoming rather numerous.
“I am vehy sorry to tell you that when you come down heah again, you
will probably not find me,” he continued. “I am in a vehy bad
predicament about the place where I live. As you know, I inherited that
place in good faith, but I find theah has been a mo’tgage on it that I
didn’t know anything about. The damned editeh of that scurrilous sheet
has in some way got possession of that mo’tgage. I am unable to meet its
obligations, suh, and I must move, probably this winteh. I will go back
to Tennessee, wheah the sun shines without expense to anybody, and wheah
a gentleman commands respect even though he is unfo’tunate. I may have
to walk to Tennessee, but I will make a sho’t call at the home of that
buzza’d that runs that newspapah, the evening that I go away, suh!”