The Cave of Gold<br />A Tale of California in '49, Everett McNeil [best books for students to read .txt] 📗
- Author: Everett McNeil
Book online «The Cave of Gold<br />A Tale of California in '49, Everett McNeil [best books for students to read .txt] 📗». Author Everett McNeil
"We find two buttons missing from the prisoner's coat," announced the foreman of the jury, when the examination of Bud had been completed. "But, since the button offered in evidence bears no resemblance in design or size to the buttons remaining on the coat, we declare that so far as this prisoner is concerned the button in question proves nothing."
"You may return to your place by the side of the sheriff," and the alcalde gave an almost audible sigh of relief, while something very near like a cheer came from the crowd. It was hard to look into those two young clear-eyed faces and believe that they masked the hearts of murderers.
Bud hurried back to his place by the side of the sheriff, with the first smile on his lips that had so far brightened his face during the trial.
"Now," and the alcalde turned to Thure, "let the jury compare the button with the buttons on your clothing," and the anxious look came back on his face.
Thure, with the same promptness and confidence that Bud had displayed, advanced and submitted to the examination; but, hardly had he reached the foreman of the jury, when the excited actions of the jurymen told all that an important discovery of some kind had been made; and their report was awaited with almost breathless interest.
"We find," began the foreman, speaking slowly, after every man on the jury had carefully compared the button Quinley had handed to the alcalde with the buttons on Thure's coat, "one button missing from the prisoner's coat." He paused a moment, and then continued, raising his voice a little: "We also find that the button handed to the alcalde by the witness, Spikenard Quinley, and said to have been found by him on the spot of ground where the struggle took place between the murdered man and his murderers, to be exactly similar in design, size, and shape to the remaining buttons on the prisoner's coat, and that it appears to be the missing button."
"But—but," stammered Thure, his face white and tense with excitement, "that button, if it came from my clothes, could not have been found on the ground where the miner was murdered. Why, I did not even have on the same clothes that day that I have on now—"
"What!" and the alcalde jumped to his feet, his face white and stern, while again that deep-throated growl went up from the crowd, "What do you mean by 'that day?' Do you realize that your expression amounts almost to a confession of guilt?"
"No," and Thure turned firmly to the alcalde. By a desperate effort he had recovered his self-control. "It means, if that button was found on the spot where the miner was murdered, that it did not come from my clothes; for I did not have on the same clothes on the day we found the wounded miner that I have on now. The button, if it came from my clothes, and I confess that it looks as if it did, must have been got by that man in some other way," and Thure's eyes flashed wrathfully in the direction of Quinley, who grinned and touched his neck suggestively.
A hoarse laugh, that had no sound of mirth in it, came from the surrounding crowd, at this improbable explanation of Thure, an explanation that strengthened rather than weakened their belief in the testimony of Quinley; but a look of relief, as well as of surprise, came on the face of the alcalde.
"Ah, I forgot. We have not yet heard your story. You say that you found the miner, John Stackpole, found him wounded?" he asked eagerly. "Then he is still alive?"
"Yes, we found him," Thure answered slowly, "found him in the hands of his murderers, but not in time to save him. He died before we could get him home."
"Died! And in your hands!" and again the alcalde's face grew stern, and again that hoarse unbelieving laugh came from the crowd. "Young man, do you realize that you are telling a very improbable-sounding story? But," and the alcalde resumed his judicial gravity of countenance, "I am forgetting that you are not on the witness stand. The button, it appears then, came from the prisoner's coat," and he turned to the foreman of the jury.
"It does," answered the foreman gravely.
"The prisoner may return to his place by the side of the sheriff. Now," and the alcalde's eyes searched the surrounding faces, "is there anyone else present who has any testimony to give against the prisoners now on trial before this court for the murder of John Stackpole?" and he paused, to give anyone who wished to do so time to come forward.
"I reckon the testimony is plenty sufficient as it now stands," and a huge brutal-looking man pushed his way through the crowd and faced the alcalde. "Haven't two reputable witnesses sworn that they saw the prisoners kill the man? Didn't one of them find a buttom that has been proven to belong to the coat of one of the prisoners on the very spot where the man was killed? And what can be offered in disproof of all this? Nothing but the word of the prisoners themselves, who certainly would lie to save their necks, if they would kill a man to get his gold. I move," and he whirled about and faced the crowd, now muttering and growling like a huge beast, "that the jury be instructed to render their verdict now, so that we can hang them two young devils and get about our business. All in favor—"
"Wait!" The alcalde's voice rang out clear and imperative; and, as he spoke, he stepped out in front of the barrel, one of the big revolvers held in each hand. "Before you put your motion I have a few words to say; and, after I have said my few words, you can put your motion; and we will see whether the men of Sacramento City stand for law and justice or for mob brutality."
"Hear! Hear!" shouted a number of voices. "The alcalde shall be heard!"
"Men," continued the alcalde, his voice ringing with intense earnestness, "I stand not here to plead for mercy in behalf of these two young men, although their youth might almost justify such a plea. I am here to demand justice. If this court, after fair trial shall find them guilty of the brutal murder charged against them, then, in the name of the same justice that I now invoke to protect them, they must hang; for, in a community situated as we are, self-protection compels us to deal with murderers with stern and relentless hands. But—Hear my words!—the prisoners have not yet been proven guilty before this court. They have not yet had fair trial. They have not yet even been heard in their own defense. When I took my oath of office to serve you as alcalde, that oath, the oath you yourselves compelled me to swear, bound me to see that every prisoner brought before me had fair and speedy trial. I meant to keep that oath then; and, by the Eternal Andrew Jackson! I mean to keep it now, if need be with my life. Now, you can put your motion," and, with a couple of quick strides, the alcalde placed himself by the side of the sheriff, near the two prisoners, the two big revolvers held ready for instant use. He knew that the only way to check mob violence was to stop it before it gathered momentum.
"Give the prisoners justice!" "They shall have justice!" "Hurrah, for the alcalde!" shouted a hundred voices; and stern-faced men pushed themselves through the crowd from every direction and formed a cordon around the prisoners and the court.
"Go on with the trial. We will see that the court is sustained," and a man stepped out from the surrounding cordon and bowed to the alcalde.
The mutterings and growlings suddenly ceased. The huge brutal-looking man slunk back into the crowd, his motion unput.
In the midst of these exciting moments, when the attention of all was concentrated on the alcalde, Bud suddenly felt a hand thrust something into his hand from behind. He turned quickly. Bill Ugger stood not four feet behind him.
"Read," and Ugger moved a couple of steps back and to one side.
Bud glanced down at his hand and saw that he held a bit of folded paper. Hastily, yet cautiously, he unfolded it and read these words scrawled on it with a lead pencil:
Me and Spike kan yit save you. Give up the miners map and promis to tell nobudy of the kave of gold and we wil git you free. Refuse and we wil let you hang and then git the map off yur ded bodies we wil git the map anyway so whats the use of given up yur lives. Weve got things fixed so that you kant eskape the rope unles we save you so you've got to give us the map or hang. Make yur own choice taint our funrel.
If you agrees nod yur hed 2 times to Spike and you wil be free in less than 10 minits.
Bud read these words through slowly; and then, moving up close to Thure, he passed the paper to him.
"Read it," he said, fixing his eyes anxiously on his comrade's face.
By this time both boys saw plainly how strong was the web of evidence that the two villains had so cunningly succeeded in throwing around them; and how completely they appeared to have them in their power. And what could they do or say to disprove their testimony? Their own tale, looked at in the light of the evidence of the two men, would seem improbable, would sound like a tale made up to fit the occasion. And they could not bring forward a single witness to prove its truthfulness! No wonder the unfortunate boys were tempted to give up the skin map; for what is gold, when weighed in the balance against life?
Thure read the note; and then turned to Bud, his face white and his heart throbbing with anxiety.
"What shall our answer be?" he asked in a whisper. "I hate like sin to give up the skin map to them two scoundrels; but, I reckon, our fathers and mothers would rather have our lives than the gold. But," and his face brightened a little, "we have not yet given our testimony. I reckon we had better wait until we see how the alcalde and the jury take our stories before giving up the map."
"Yes," agreed Bud, his own face brightening at the thought of putting off the surrender a little longer, "we will wait and see what effect our testimony has. But, I guess you are right, if it comes to hanging," and he shuddered, "or giving up the map, we'll have to give up the map. But we won't give up until we've got to," and his face hardened. "Who'd a thought them two scoundrels could get us in such a terrible fix!" and he glared wrathfully in the direction of the two men, who now stood close together regarding Thure and Bud with furtive but anxious eyes.
"Now to give them two skunks their answer," and Thure, holding the paper out where the two men could see it, deliberately tore it to pieces and, turning his back scornfully to them, gave his attention to the doings of the court.
CHAPTER XI AN UNEXPECTED WITNESSThe alcalde, the moment he saw that the mob spirit had been subdued, had returned quietly to his place behind the barrel; and, when the two boys again gave their attention to him, he had just reached his rude seat of judgment, and was about to speak.
"I knew," he said, as his keen eyes searched the faces of the men, who had so opportunely formed the cordon of safety around him and his court, "that I could depend on the good sense and fair-mindedness of the people of Sacramento City. We will now proceed with the trial," and he quietly slipped back both of his revolvers into his coat pockets.
"Once more," and the alcalde raised his voice so that all could hear, "the court asks, is there any other witness to bear testimony against the two prisoners, if so, let him now step forward."
For a minute or two
Comments (0)