The sun had just gone down, and a man was beating a triangle to announce
that it was lodge-night, when I stepped upon the sidewalk in front of
Conkwright's office. The old man was locking his door. I spoke to him
and he turned about, and, seeing me, merely nodded, threw open the door
and bade me go in. "Mighty glad you've got back," he said. "They are
going to bring that trial on right away, and it will be none too soon
for us, I assure you. Let me open this window. Been about as hot a day
as I ever felt. Well, what have you got to say?"
"So much that I scarcely know how to begin."
He grunted. "The prelude to an unimportant story. But, go on."
Long before I was done with my recital he sat with his eyes wide open,
seeming to wonder whether my reason had slipped a cog.
"Wonderful," he said. "No, it is not wonderful, nothing is wonderful.
The mere fact that a thing happens proves that there is about it no
element of the marvelous. It is the strange thing that does not occur.
When it does occur it ceases to be strange. And you say he will be here
to-morrow? Now, you let me take charge of him as soon as he arrives. If
you don't he will not only get the mine for nothing, but will go away
with your eye teeth. I'll go home to-night and study up this question,
and by to-morrow night I'll know more about it than he does. Yes, sir, a
good deal more, or at least make him think so. You were long-headed in
deciding to slip out there and buy more land, and by the way, Parker is
in town. No, sir, there is no telling what may happen. See Parker
to-night and meet me here to-morrow morning."
I found Alf reading a letter which Millie had contrived to send him.
Under the light of the smoky lamp his face looked sallow and thin, but
his eyes were full of happiness. "She's got the noblest spirit that ever
suffered, and noble spirits must suffer," he said as he handed me the
letter. "See, she begs my forgiveness for having kept me on the
gridiron. But doesn't one letter atone for a whole year of broiling? Ah,
and you have been broiled, too, haven't you, Bill? Now let them put the
balm on us. The Judge tells me that I am soon to be turned out, and I'll
come out wiser than I was when I came in, for I have improved my time
with reading. Have you heard from the folks?"
I told him my story, and I told it quietly, but it greatly excited him,
and time and again he thrust his hands through the iron lattice to grasp
me. "So you will go out not only wiser, but a richer man," I said. "You
will not have to go into a field and plow in the blistering heat while
other men are sitting in the shade. All our trouble has been for the
best, and with deep reverence we must acknowledge it. And soon we will
go together out to the old place and peacefully smoke our pipes up under
the rafters. Well, I have left you the subject for a pleasant dream, and
I must go now to look for Parker. As I said to your father, there is no
telling how much money we may get, but whatever comes we share."
"Not if it's very much, Bill. I don't need much; I wouldn't know what to
do with it. But if you could only do one thing it would make me the
happiest man that ever lived."
"Tell me what it is. It can surely be done."
"Why, if I could only get the old Morton place. It's about three miles
from the General's, and it used to belong to his grandfather. One of his
aims in life has been to get it back into the family, and if you could
get it for me----"
"You shall have it."
"Don't say so, Bill, unless you think there's a chance."
"It's not a chance, but a certainty. You shall have the place. And what
a delight it will be to the General to visit his daughter there. Now,
don't speculate--let it be settled. Well, I'll see you to-morrow and
tell you how it's all to turn out, but have no fears about getting the
farm."
I found Parker at the tavern. He told me that I might have a few acres
of land down about the spring, but that I would have to pay a little
more for it than he had paid. "We can't afford to trade for the mere fun
of it," he said. "My father used to do such things and they came mighty
nigh having to haul him to the poor house."
I offered him a sum that pleased him, that must, indeed, have delighted
him, for he offered to go out and set up a feast of cove oysters and
crackers, a great and liberal ceremony in the country; and over the tin
plates in a grocery store the transaction was celebrated. I met him
again early at morning, and before the day was half-grown I saw our
transaction spread upon the records. And at night Ging arrived. I
introduced him to Conkwright. "The Judge will represent me," said I,
"and I will stand by any agreement he may enter into with you."
"All right," Ging replied. "How far is it out to the mine?"
"About five miles."
"Better go out to-night. Haven't any time to lose. Get a rig and we'll
go out."
"Might as well wait until morning," said the Judge. "We can't do
anything to-night."
"I know, but by staying there to-night we'll be there right early in the
morning. Get a rig."
They drove away and I went round to the jail to tell Alf that the old
Morton place was rapidly coming his way. I slept but little that night
and I was nervous the next day, as I sat in the Judge's office waiting
for him to return. At 11 o'clock he drove up alone.
"Where is Ging?" I asked as the old man got out of the buggy.
"Gone to the telegraph office. Come in and I'll tell you all about it."
We entered the office and I stood there impatient at his delay, for
instead of telling me, he was silent, walking up and down the room with
his hands under his coat behind him.
"Did you say he had gone to the telegraph office?"
"Yes; said he had to communicate with his partner. Think he must have
been somewhat startled at my knowledge of mica; but if he should spring
the subject on me a week from now he would be still more startled--at my
ignorance. In this instance I have been what is termed a case lawyer."
And still I waited and still he continued to walk up and down the room,
his hands behind him.
"Communicate with his partner. Did he make an offer?"
"Well, he hunted around in that neighborhood, but his gun hung fire. The
truth is I set the price myself. There is no doubt as to the value of
the mine--finest in the world, I should think."
"What did you tell him he could have it for?"
"Well, I suppose we could get more for it, but I told him that he might
have it for six hundred thousand dollars. I--why, what's wrong with that
offer? Isn't it enough?"
"Enough! It is more than I dared to dream!" I cried.
"Ah, hah. And because you don't know anything about mica. It didn't
startle him; simply remarked that he would telegraph to his partner.
He'll take it. He'll give you a check and I'll send it over to
Knoxville, Tenn.--don't want this little bank to handle that amount.
What are you going to do with the money?"
"I'm going to buy the old Morton place for Alf, give the old man as much
as I can compel him to take, and I'm going to build a home on a high
bluff overlooking the St. Jo river, in Michigan. And I don't know yet
what else I may do. It is so overwhelming that my mind is in a tangle.
But I am going to give you----"
"I don't charge you anything for my services," he broke in, humorously
winking his old eyes. "You are to be my law partner, you know."
"Ah, that was reserved for time to bring about, in the event that I
should ever become a lawyer, but that possibility is now removed. I'm
not going to study law. The law is very forcible and very logical, but
it is too dry for me. I don't believe that I am practical enough for a
lawyer. I would rather read poetry and luminous prose than to study
rules of civil conduct. I am going to bejewel my house with books and
then I am going to live. I heard you say that the poet was the only man
who really lives, but he is not--those who worship with him live with
him. Yes, I am going to buy old books--I don't like new ones--and in my
library I will rule over the kingdoms of the earth. But I am going to
give you ten thousand dollars."
"You wouldn't make a very good lawyer, Bill. I suspected it, and now you
prove it. My dear fellow, I have no children, and am getting old,
therefore I have no use for money. Wait a minute. I believe there is a
five thousand dollar mortgage on my house. Well, you may lend me ten
thousand, but I don't believe I'll ever pay it back. I can't afford to
violate the rule. When a man lends me money it's gone. And that's right,
for if I thought I had to pay it back I might dodge you. Yes, sir. As I
was driving back to town I came within one of permitting myself to look
upon this happening as a strange affair, but it is not; it's perfectly
natural. Yes, sir. And as soon as the news spreads around, nearly every
man in the community will turn out to hunt for mica, and not a speck of
it will be found. A reminder of the imitators that clamor when the clear
voice of a genius has been heard. If I keep on fooling with this subject
I will regard it as strange, after all. Just think of the ten thousand
things that led to the discovery of that mine. Suppose we could trace
any occurrence back to its source. Take my sitting here, for instance.
Caused, we will say, by a dead cat. My father, a very young fellow at
the time, found a dead cat lying on his father's door-steps, and he
threw it over into a neighbor's yard. The neighbor saw him, came over
and demanded that he be whipped. He was whipped, according to the good,
old religious custom, and he ran away from home, went to many places,
came into this state as a clock peddler, fell in love, married, and here
I am, sitting here--all caused by a dead cat. My mother was the daughter
of a very proud old fellow. She ran away with my father and never again
was she received at home. I may have dreamed it, but it seems that I
remember my mother holding me in her arms, pointing to an old brick
house and telling me that my grandfather lived there. Yes, sir, if we
permit our minds to drift that way, everything is strange. Here comes
our man."
Ging stepped in, mopping his face with a handkerchief. "I'll take it,"
he said, and it seemed to me that the room began to turn round. "Let us
fix it up at once," he added. "I have engaged a man to drive me to the
station and I want to take the next train."
Evening came. The day had been filled with tremors and whirls, so dazed
was I, dreamily listening to details, now startled, now seeming to be
far away--shaking hands, signing papers; and now it was all settled, and
I, on a horse, rode toward home to seek a night of rest in the country.
The moon was full. I heard the sharp clack of hoofs, and, looking back,
I saw a man riding as if it were his aim to overtake me. I jogged along
slowly and Etheredge came up.
"How are you, Mr. Hawes? I have heard of your wonderful luck and I
congratulate you. I intended to see you in town to-night, but learned
that you had come out here, so I rode fast to overtake you. I have sold
out and will leave here to-morrow morning."
"What! Then you won't be here at the trial?"
"I shall not be needed, sir. Now I am going to tell you something and I
hope that in your mind, and in the mind of the public, the good which it
will do may in some measure atone for the wrong----"
His horse stumbled, and he did not complete the sentence. I was afraid
to say anything, was afraid that eagerness on my part might stir the
vagaries of his peculiar mind and drive him into stubborn silence. So I
said nothing. He rode close to me, reached over and put his hand on my
arm. "Mr. Hawes," he said, leaning toward me, and in the moonlight his
face was ghastly, "Mr. Hawes, Alf Jucklin did not kill Dan Stuart."
"What!" I cried, bringing my horse to a stand-still and seizing his
bridle-rein.
"Let us be perfectly calm now, and I'll tell you all about it. Turn
loose my bridle-rein and let us ride on slowly."
Down the moon-whitened road the horses slowly walked. I waited for him
to continue. "No, sir, Alf didn't kill him. I found him in the road,
after Alf had called me, and I took him into my house and there was not
a mark on him, not one. I stripped him and nowhere was his skin broken.
Dan was born with organic disease of the heart, and for years I had been
treating him. He was sensitive and never spoke of his ailment and I was
the only one who knew the extent of it. Two years ago I told him that he
was likely to die at any minute, and I repeatedly warned him against
fatigue or any sort of agitation. And it was rage that killed him when
Alf's pistol fired. The hammer of Dan's pistol caught in his pocket and
his failure to get it out threw him into a rage and he died. I told the
coroner that he was shot through the breast, and I slyly contrived not
to be placed upon my oath. They had Alf's confession, and that was
enough. And no one cared to strip the dead man to examine the wound. It
was a piece of humbuggery, as all coroners' inquests are, and so the
verdict was given. I am a mean man; I acknowledge it--I am narrow and
vindictive, but I would have made a confession of the manner of Dan's
death rather than to see Alf hanged. I knew that there would be a new
trial; I intended to leave the community and I resolved to defer my
statement until just before going. That about covers the case, I think."
"Will you go with me to a justice of the peace, write out your statement
and swear to it?" I asked, striving to be calm.
"Certainly. Old Perdue is a justice. We'll go over there."
The moon was still high as I galloped toward town with the statement in
my pocket. I went straightway to Conkwright's house and with the
door-knocker set every dog in the town to barking.
"Why, what on earth is the matter?" the Judge asked as he opened the
door. "Oh, it's you, is it, Bill? I've got a negro here somewhere, but
Gabriel might blow a blast in his ear and never stir his wool. Come into
the library."
He lighted a lamp, and I handed him the doctor's statement. He read it
without the least show of surprise; and, putting the paper into his
pocket, he sat down, closed his eyes, and with his thumb and forefinger
pressed his eye-lids.
"Etheredge is going to leave in the morning," I said.
"He ought to be sent to the penitentiary. But let him go. Penitentiary
is better off without him. In the morning we will have several of our
leading doctors exhume the body to verify the statement. I'll attend to
it. Yes, sir. A certain form must be observed. A jury will be impaneled,
the statement will be read, and the judge will, in a sort of a charge,
declare that the prisoner is innocent. Some things are strange after
all. A venomous scoundrel, but let him go. Yes, I'll attend to
everything in the morning. You'd better sleep here."
"No, I'm going to the jail and then to the telegraph office."