The Cave of Gold<br />A Tale of California in '49, Everett McNeil [best books for students to read .txt] 📗

was there, but usually held in check by the sturdy manhood of the American miners, who had nearly all come from law abiding and law respecting communities.

This swift severity of Justice was, in a sense, compelled by the unusual, the almost unprecedented conditions surrounding life in a city born suddenly in a wilderness. There were few locks and bars and bolts, or, even, doors, in Sacramento City at that time; and large sums in gold and great values in goods were often left exposed and almost unprotected. The thief, under such circumstances, had to be dealt with severely and promptly; or the property of no one would be safe. There were no regularly established courts in the city to try criminals, no written code of laws to dictate methods of procedure, no court officials to enforce mandates, and no safe jails in which to confine prisoners. Under such circumstances the people had to form their own courts, make their own laws, and see that they were enforced; or have no laws; and the criminal had to be dealt with summarily. The thief was sometimes whipped, or, even, cropped, that is his ears were cut off, and he was always driven from the city, and warned not to come back under penalty of death. The murderer, when proven guilty to the satisfaction of the people, was always hanged. No prisoners were held. They were proven guilty and sentence pronounced and executed at once; or they were set free.

Such was Sacramento City in 1849, the Sacramento City in which Thure and Bud now found themselves under arrest for the horrible crime of murder, the most serious crime that can be charged against a human being anywhere, but rendered especially serious in the present case by the peculiar surrounding circumstances. In all the city, so far as either boy knew, they did not have a friend, or even an acquaintance, who could vouch for them—and yet, before the sun set that night, they must prove themselves innocent of the crime charged, or, in all human probability, be hanged!

The alcalde's office was small, only a few of the great crowd of men who had followed the sheriff and his prisoners could get inside of it; and, when the alcalde saw the size of the gathering outside of his office and learned the serious nature of the charge against the two boys, he at once ordered the "court" to be held under the big oak in the horse-market, where there would be room for all to see and hear how justice was dispensed. Accordingly all started at once for the horse-market, situated near the bottom of K Street, where an immense evergreen oak stood in the middle of the street, furnishing an agreeable shade for many feet around and a fittingly picturesque scene for the holding of such a trial as was about to take place.

The method of procedure, on arriving at the horse-market, was simple but effective. The alcalde took his station near the trunk of the great oak, and summoned the prisoners and their accusers before him, while the crowd gathered in a grim and stern-faced circle around this improvised courtroom.

"What is the crime the prisoners are charged with?" and the alcalde turned to the sheriff.

"Murder!" answered the sheriff briefly.

"Who makes the accusation?"

"Those two men standing there," and the sheriff indicated the big red-headed man with the broken nose and the small man with the pock-marked face, who now stood just behind the sheriff and his two prisoners.

"Stand forth by the side of the prisoners," commanded the alcalde.

The two men shuffled awkwardly forward and stood uneasily by the side of Thure and Bud, their eyes shifting restlessly from the face of the alcalde to the faces of the surrounding crowd.

For a couple or more minutes the alcalde studied the faces of the two boys and the faces of their two accusers in silence. Evidently he was endeavoring to form an opinion of the characters of the prisoners and their accusers; but, what that opinion was, his face did not betray.

"Why do you accuse these two young men of murder?" and the alcalde suddenly fixed his eyes upon the face of the man with a broken nose.

"Because I seen 'em do it," answered the man. "Me an' my pard, Spike, seen 'em do it. Ask him," and he turned to the small man, who stood close by his side.

"And you are both willing to make oath that you saw these two young men, who are little more than boys, commit the awful crime of murder?" the alcalde continued.

"Yes," promptly responded both men.

"Then, may God have mercy on your souls, if the accusations are false! What have you to say to the accusation? Guilty; or, not guilty?" and the alcalde turned abruptly to Thure and Bud.

"Not guilty," answered Thure, his face very white. "We—"

"That will do for the present," interrupted the alcalde. "Gentlemen, how shall the case be tried?" and he turned to the surrounding crowd of stern-faced men.

"Give 'em a jury, an' git a-goin'," called a rough voice impatiently.

"Do you wish a trial by jury?" and again the alcalde turned to Thure and Bud.

"Yes," answered both boys.

"The trial will be by jury," announced the alcalde. "I summon to act as this jury," and his eyes searched the circle of surrounding faces, as he slowly called out the names of twelve men, who, as their names were called, stepped forth and took their stations by the side of the alcalde and in front of the prisoners and their accusers.

When the twelve jurymen had been selected, all were solemnly sworn by the alcalde to render a true and just verdict, according to the evidence presented; and the trial of Thure and Bud for the murder of John Stackpole, the miner, was ready to begin.

During all this time Thure and Bud had been doing some very serious and some very rapid thinking. At first the suddenness and the unexpectedness of the rush of men upon them in the busy street, followed so swiftly by their arrest and the dreadful accusations of the two men, whom they had every reason to believe had committed the crime themselves, had almost completely benumbed their faculties; but this condition of mind had lasted only a short time, and long before they reached the place of trial their minds were busy with the dreadful problem of how to prove themselves innocent of the crime charged, when two men were ready to swear that they saw them commit the crime, and when they did not have, could not have, a single witness who could swear to the truthfulness of their statements concerning the miner's death. No one but themselves had seen him die; and, so far as they knew, no one but themselves and their accusers knew the cause of his death. If they only had time to send home—But, even if they had witnesses from home, what could they prove? Only that the two boys had brought the dead miner home and had buried him; and that would be no proof that they had not killed him and invented the story of the two robbers.

True, on their side, they could accuse the two men of committing the murder themselves; but they had no positive proofs that they were guilty of the crime, only the description of his assailants given them by the dying miner. There might be other men with broken noses and pock-marked faces. All that they could swear to of their own knowledge was that one of the men they had seen murdering the old miner was larger than the other. They had not got near enough to the murderers to be able to recognize them again, even if they should see them, except by the description given by the murdered man. And for them to accuse the two men, who had caused their arrest, of the murder, in itself would look suspicious to those who did not know the real facts and would have a tendency to make them doubt their whole story of the death of the miner.

Then there was another matter that troubled the two boys greatly. Why had the two men accused them thus publicly of the murder of the miner? Why had they run this risk of turning suspicion against themselves? They must feel very certain that the "evidence" they would produce would convict; or, they never would have dared to have chanced accusing them of the crime; for their acquittal would be almost sure to turn suspicion in their own direction. True, there was the skin map, and, possibly, the accusation was some scheme to get the map into their possession; but, how could their hanging bring this about? If they were hanged, the map and its meaning would be almost sure to be made public; and then every man in Sacramento City would have as good a chance of finding the Cave of Gold as would the two scoundrels themselves, a condition of things that both boys felt quite sure the two men were exceedingly anxious to avoid, and the map itself would be almost certain to be kept from them.

Then, again, the possession of the skin map itself was the cause of the gravest anxiety and dread. If they confessed to its possession it would reveal to all the secret of the Cave of Gold, something that they were almost ready to give their lives to prevent, and would not help their case in the least. Indeed, under the circumstances it would, probably, be considered the strongest possible circumstantial evidence of their guilt.

But, what if the alcalde should order them searched and the map be found? Or, what if the two men, becoming desperate, should ask that they be searched, to see if anything that belonged to the miner could be found in their possession, and the buckskin bag and the gold nugget and the skin map should all be discovered in their place of concealment under Thure's left shoulder?

When the two horns of a dilemma are both equally long and sharp, how, then, can the peril be avoided?

Indeed, the longer and the closer Thure and Bud looked at their situation, the more dreadful and impossible of remedy it appeared. How could they prove their innocence, when they did not have a single witness to appear in their defense? How could their youth and inexperience, friendless and alone, hope to combat successfully with the cunning and the experience of these two unprincipled men, who would stop at nothing to accomplish their ends? But, they were not the kind of boys to give up a fight for life, as long as they could strike back; and the more difficult their situation appeared, the more grimly determined they became to win out somehow, or, at least, to die fighting.

"Not a word of the skin map and the Cave of Gold," hastily warned Thure in a whisper to Bud, as the alcalde, having completed the tale of the jury, again turned to them. "Tell everything just as it happened, but that. The telling of that would not help us a bit; and, if it were known that we had a map and a gold nugget that had belonged to the miner, it would look suspicious and might hurt us a lot; and we don't want to give away the Cave of Gold, not if we can help it."

"Right," whispered back Bud. "It's got to be our word against the word of those two cowardly villains, I reckon," and he glared furiously in the direction of the two men. "We've just got to beat them some way," and his young face grew grim and stern.

By this time the jurymen had all seated themselves comfortably on the ground on both sides of the alcalde, and were ready to hear the testimony.

"You may step forward and be sworn," and the alcalde's eyes signaled out the big man with a broken nose.

The man stepped up in front of the alcalde, who sat on a stump, with a barrel standing on end in front of him and an old worn Bible lying on top of the barrel.

"Hold up your right hand," commanded the alcalde, his keen eyes fixing themselves sternly on the red, brutal face; "and repeat the oath after me."

The man's right hand went up with a sort of spasmodic jerk.

"I do solemnly swear," began the alcalde slowly, "that the testimony I am about to give in the case now before the court, shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth; and may God eternally damn my soul, if I knowingly utter a false word."

Hesitatingly and with a whitening face, the man slowly repeated this oath.

"Kiss the Bible," commanded the alcalde; "and may God blister the lips that have touched His holy book, if they suffer a false word to pass between them."

The man hesitated a moment: and