The Cave of Gold<br />A Tale of California in '49 by Everett McNeil (summer books txt) 📖

none after that; but got back ahind them bushes an' trees as sudden as our legs would take us. But," and Ugger paused and glared at Thure and Bud, "if I knowed I was on my deathbed an' a-goin' tew die in five minits, I'd be willin' tew swear that th' tew murderers was them tew boys a-standin' thar. We saw their faces plain an' thar ain't no mistake," and his eyes flashed an ugly look in the direction of Thure and Bud.

"Of course," continued Bill Ugger, "they didn't dare follow us, 'cause, if they did, they knowed we could hide ahind a tree an' pot 'em, which we'd ben sum glad tew do," and his eyes glowed vindictively. "Wal, we waited, hid ahind th' bushes an' trees, not darin' tew show ourselves an' bein' tew far off tew do any pistol shooting a-hopin' that they'd ride off an' leave th' body of th' man they'd robbed an' probably killed, but they was tew cunnin' tew do that; for, in a leetle while, they throwed th' body, like it was a bag of grain, across th' back of one of th' hosses an' tied it thar; an' then they rode off, a-leadin' th' hoss with th' body on it ahind 'em. Me an' Spike waited 'til they'd gone out of sight over th' top of a distant hill an' then we made for th' spot of th' killin'. Th' grass was sum tread up an' bloody; an' lyin' in th' blood an' partly tread intew th' ground, we found this," and Ugger thrust his hand into one of his pockets and pulled out a small daguerreotype-case, perhaps a couple of inches square, on which could be plainly seen ominous stains of red.

"This," and he held up the small case where all could see, "has inside of it th' picter of as handsum a lady as I ever seed; an' under th' picter is writ, in a woman's writin,' these words: Tew my beloved husband, John Stackpole'; an' we reckoned, me an' Spike did, as how th' murdered man's name must a-ben John Stackpole. See for yourselves," and he handed the case to the alcalde, who, after opening it and looking at the picture inside and the blood stains on the outside, passed it on to the jury, who examined it carefully.

"Of course," continued Ugger, after he had watched the effect of the daguerreotype on the alcalde and the jury for a minute, "bein' bound for th' diggin's an' knowin' 'twould be almost useless tew try an' trail th' murderers, me an' Spike at once started on our way ag'in for Sacermento City, not expectin' tew see them murderers ag'in, leastwise not so soon. We got intew th' city this mornin'; an' was a-standin' on th' street a-lookin' at th' humans a-passin' by, when who should come a-ridin' along right afore our eyes, but them tew identickle young fellers what we had seen kill that man; an', of course, bein' honest an' law-abidin' men, me an' Spike seen tew it that they didn't git away a second time. Now, I reckon, that's all I've got tew tell, only," and again his eyes turned vindictively to Thure and Bud, "thar ain't ben no mistake made an' you've got th' right men; an' if they don't hang afore night, then thar ain't no justice in Sacermento City. I'm done."

The alcalde sat for a moment looking straight in front of him. Evidently he was swiftly reviewing the man's testimony to see if there were any points that needed clearing up; but everything had been told, apparently, in such a clear, straightforward manner that there seemed to be nothing that needed explaining, and, with a sigh as he thought of the youthfulness of the prisoners, the alcalde turned to the jury.

"Would you like to ask the witness any questions?" he inquired.

"No. Everything seems to have been told as clear and as straight as a string," one of them replied, and all the others nodded their assent to this, statement.

"Have the prisoners any questions they wish to ask the witness?" and the alcalde turned to Thure and Bud.

For a moment the two boys consulted together. Then Thure said quietly: "No, there is nothing that either of us would care to ask that man."

"The prisoner is dismissed for the present," and the alcalde motioned Bill Ugger to step back from in front of the barrel.

CHAPTER X THE MISSING BUTTON

"You may step forward and be sworn," and the alcalde turned his shrewd eyes on the pockmarked face of the small man.

The man stepped quickly forward; but, just before he reached the barrel, a sudden gleam shot into his eyes, which at that moment happened to be bent on the ground and looking at the spot where Thure and Ugger had had their brief but vigorous struggle. The next instant his foot apparently caught in a root that protruded above the ground; and he stumbled and fell violently downward, both outstretched hands clutching at the ground. As he jumped hastily to his feet, his face very red and his mouth flowing with apologies to the alcalde for his clumsiness, he glanced downward swiftly into one of his hands, and then, with another quick gleam of cunning triumph in his eyes, he quickly slipped the hand into one of his pockets, and, taking his place in front of the barrel, faced the alcalde.

"What is your name and present business?" the alcalde asked, when he had sworn the witness, in the same manner Ugger had been sworn, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

"Spikenard Quinley," the man answered, shifting his eyes quickly from the face of the alcalde to the two big revolvers on top of the barrel; "but most of my friends jest call me Spike, for short. I'm bound for th' diggin's, 'long with my pard, Bill Ugger, him who jest testified."

"Tell the jury all that you know about the case now before it; and make your testimony as brief as possible, please," and the alcalde settled back on his rude seat and fixed his eyes on the face of the witness.

Quinley did not prove to be as dramatic a witness as Ugger had been; but he told a seemingly straightforward and honest story of how he and his partner had witnessed the killing of the man supposed to be John Stackpole, that differed only in the manner of its telling from the one already told by Ugger, and, consequently, need not be repeated here. He, also, was very positive that the two men, who had jumped up from the prostrate body of the man and had held them up with their rifles, were the two prisoners; and right here he introduced a bit of new corroborative evidence in a most effective and dramatic manner.

He had completed his testimony and had been dismissed by the alcalde and had started away from the court-barrel, when he suddenly stopped, as if he had unexpectedly remembered something that might have a bearing on the case, and turned to the alcalde.

"Excuse me, y'ur honor," he said, as he thrust a hand into one of his pockets, the same pocket into which he had thrust the same hand a moment after his tumble over the root, "but I've jest reckerlected that I've sumthin' right here in my pocket that might help tew identify the prisoners as the murderers, an' ag'in it might not—not that me and Bill needs any more identifin', but, naterly, you, not seem' 'em kill th' man, ain't so sart'in an' wants all th' proof that you can git tew show that you shore have got the right party; an' so, if y'ur honor don't object, I've got a leetle sumthin' more that I'd like tew introduce as testimony, that might, an' ag'in it might not, help tew make th' identity of th' prisoners more shore," and he paused, still keeping his hand in his pocket.

"This court is always ready to hear any testimony that has any bearing on the case before it," the alcalde said. "Take your place again on the witness stand," and he nodded toward the barrel.

Quinley at once returned to his place in front of the barrel.

"Now, remembering that you are still under oath to tell God's truth, you may introduce your evidence," and the alcalde half-arose from his seat in his anxiety to see what this new evidence might be.

"Of course, I'm none shore that it belongs tew either of th' prisoners," Quinley began. "It might have come from th' clothes of th' murdered man, an' ag'in it might have come from th' clothes of th' prisoners, an' ag'in th' prisoners might not have on th' same clothes tew-day that they did when they killed th' man, an' so it might prove nuthin'; but, right whar th' grass was tread up th' worst on th' spot whar we saw th' man killed, I found this—" and the hand came out of the pocket and was extended toward the alcalde, holding on its palm a button. "Now I'd plumb forgot all about th' findin' of this button, not settin' any store on it, when, jest as I was a-leavin' th' witness stand, th' thought popped intew my head, that, if th' prisoners happened tew have on th' same clothes they had on when they murdered the man an' th' button came from their clothes, then I had in my pocket important evidence, 'cause th' button is a peekuler lookin' button, an', I reckon, thar must be more buttons like it on th' clothes whar it come from. I asks that th' clothes of th' prisoners be examined tew see if either on 'em has buttons on like this," and he handed the button to the alcalde.

The alcalde took the button and sat for a moment staring at it as it lay on the palm of his hand—a small thing, but it might help to weave the rope that would hang two human beings!

"Git a-goin'," shouted someone impatiently from the surrounding crowd, "an' see if either of th' prisoners has got any buttons on his clothes like that you're a-holdin' in y'ur hand. If he has, I reckon, thar won't be any need of takin' any more testimonies."

A dozen voices shouted their approval of this statement. Evidently the sympathies of the crowd were being fast turned from Thure and Bud.

The alcalde arose slowly to his feet.

"This court," he said sternly, "is here to see that the prisoners are given a fair trial, guilty or not guilty; and judgment shall not be pronounced until the case has been fairly tried and their innocence or their guilt fully established. This cannot be done until the prisoners themselves have been heard in their own defense. Let us hear no more talk of mob judgment and mob execution. The court will pronounce judgment, and the court will see that its judgment is promptly executed, to the full satisfaction of every honest law-abiding man in the city." He paused for a moment, while his keen eyes sternly searched the faces of the surrounding crowd. There was no response to his words and challenging glance.

"This button," he continued quietly, holding up the button that Quinley had handed him where all could see it, "the witness swears was picked up by himself from the ground, where the struggle between the murdered man and his murderers took place, and is presumed to have come either from the clothing of the murdered man or from the clothing of his murderers; and the witness asks that the clothing of the two prisoners be examined to see if like buttons can be found on their clothing. The contentions of the witness, regarding the value of this button as evidence in the case before us, are just. Therefore his request is granted and the prisoners are ordered to be examined. Young man," and he turned to Bud, "you will please come forward; and allow the gentlemen of the jury to compare this button with the buttons on your clothing," and he handed the button he held in his hand to the foreman of the jury.

The production of this button by Quinley was a surprise to Thure and Bud. If it should prove to have come from the clothing of one of them, it certainly would look suspicious; but, how could it have come from their clothes, at least from the clothes they now had on, since neither of them were now wearing the same garments that they had worn on the day of the hunt, when they had found the murdered miner? Consequently the introducing of the button as evidence by Quinley had caused both of them more surprise than it had uneasiness, surprise that Quinley should care to introduce such meaningless evidence as he must know the button