“What should there be written upon your face?”
“What? What? Them questions are for fools and children.”
“I will ask you none; but as a Christian, as a countryman, I beseech you——”
“Christian?” interrupted he, with a hollowlaugh. “Countryman!” He struck the butt of his rifle hard upon the ground. “That is my countryman—my only friend!” he continued, as he examined the flint and lock of his weapon. “That releases from all troubles: that’s a true friend. Pooh! perhaps it’ll release you too—put you to rest.”
These last words were uttered aside, and musingly.
“Put him to rest, as well as——. Pooh! One more or less—Perhaps it would drive away that cursed spectre.”
All this seemed to be spoken to his rifle.
“Will you swear not to betray me?” cried he to me. “Else, one touch——”
As he spoke, he brought the gun to his shoulder, the muzzle pointed full at my breast.
I felt no fear. I am sure my pulse did not give a throb the more for this menace. So deadly weak and helpless as I lay, it was unnecessary to shoot me. The slightest blow from the butt of the rifle would have driven the last faint spark of life out of my exhausted body. I looked calmly, indifferently even, into the muzzle of the piece.
“If you can answer it to your God, to your and my Judge and Creator, do your will.”
My words, which from faintness I could scarcely render audible, had, nevertheless, a sudden and startling effect upon the man. He trembled fromhead to foot, let the butt of his gun fall heavily to the ground, and gazed at me with open mouth and staring eyes.
“This one, too, comes with his God!” muttered he. “God! and your and my Creator—and—Judge.”
He seemed hardly able to articulate these words, which were uttered by gasps and efforts, as though something had choked him.
“His and my—Judge”—groaned he again. “Can there be a God, a Creator and Judge?”
As he stood thus muttering to himself, his eyes suddenly became fixed, and his features horribly distorted.
“Do it not!” cried he, in a shrill tone of horror, that rang through my head. “It will bring no blessin’ with it. I am a dead man! God be merciful to me! My poor wife! my poor children!”
The rifle fell from his hands, and he smote his breast and forehead in a paroxysm of the wildest fury and despair. It was frightful to behold the conscience-stricken wretch, stamping madly about, and casting glances of terror behind him, as though demons had been hunting him down. The foam flew from his mouth, and I expected each moment to see him fall to the ground in a fit of epilepsy. Gradually, however, he grew more tranquil.
“D’ye see nothin’ in my face?” said he in a hoarse whisper, suddenly pausing close to where I lay.
“What should I see?”
He came yet nearer.
“Look well at me—throughme, if you can. D’ye see nothin’ now?”
“I see nothing,” replied I.
“Ah! I understand; you can see nothin’. Ain’t in a spyin’ humour, I calkilate. No, no, that you ain’t. After four days and nights fastin’, one loses the fancy for many things. I’ve tried it for two days myself. So, you are weak and faint, eh? But I needn’t ask that, I reckon. You look bad enough. Take another drop of whisky; it’ll strengthen you. But wait till I mix it.”
As he spoke, he stepped down to the edge of the river, and scooping up the water in the hollow of his hand, filled up his flask with it. Then returning to me, he poured a little into my mouth.
Even the bloodthirsty Indian appears less of a savage when engaged in a compassionate act, and the wild desperado I had fallen in with seemed softened and humanised by the service he was rendering me. His voice sounded less harsh; his manner was calmer and milder.
“You wish to go to an inn?”
“For Heaven’s sake, yes. These four days I have tasted nothing but a bit of tobacco.”
“Can you spare a bit of that?”
“All I have.”
I handed him my cigar-case, and the roll ofdulcissimus.He snatched the latter from me, and bit into it with the furious eagerness of a wolf.
“Ah! the right sort this!” muttered he to himself. “Ah, young man, or old man—you’re an old man, ain’t you? How old are you?”
“Two-and-twenty.”
He shook his head doubtingly.
“Can hardly believe that. But four days in the prairie, and nothin’ to eat. Well, it may be so. But, stranger, if I had had this bit of tobacco only ten days ago——A bit of tobacco is worth a deal sometimes. It might have saved a man’s life!”
Again he groaned, and his accents were wild and unnatural.
“I say, stranger!” cried he in a threatening tone. “I say! D’ye see yonder live oak? D’ye see it? It’s the Patriarch, and a finer and mightier one you won’t find in the prairies, I reckon. D’ye see it?”
“I do see it.”
“Ah! you see it,” cried he fiercely. “And what is it to you? What have you to do with the Patriarch, or with what lies under it? I reckon you had best not be too curious that way. If you dare take a step under that tree——” He swore an oath too horrible to be repeated.
“There’s a spectre there,” cried he; “a spectre that would fright you to death. Better keep away.”
“I will keep away,” replied I. “I never thoughtof going near it. All I want is to get to the nearest plantation or inn.”
“Ah! true, man—the next inn. I’ll show you the way to it. I will.”
“You will save my life by so doing,” said I, “and I shall be ever grateful to you as my deliverer.”
“Deliverer!” repeated he with a wild laugh. “Pooh! If you knew what sort of a deliverer—Pooh! What’s the use of savin’ a life, when—yet I will—I will save yours; perhaps the cursed spectre will leave me then. Will you not? Will you not?” cried he, suddenly changing his scornful mocking tones to those of entreaty and supplication, and turning his face in the direction of the live oak. Again his wildness of manner returned, and his eyes were fixed as he gazed for some moments at the gigantic tree. Then darting away, he disappeared among the trees, whence he had fetched his rifle, and presently emerged again, leading a saddled horse with him. He called to me to mount mine, but seeing that I was unable even to rise from the ground, he stepped up to me, and with the greatest ease lifted me into the saddle with one hand, so light had I become during my long fast. Then taking the end of my lasso, he got upon his own horse and set off, leading my mustang after him.
We rode on for some time without exchanging a word. My guide kept up a sort of mutteredsoliloquy; but as I was full ten paces in his rear, I could distinguish nothing of what he said. At times he would raise his rifle to his shoulder, then lower it again, and speak to it, sometimes caressingly, sometimes in anger. More than once he turned his head, and cast keen searching glances at me, as though to see whether I were watching him or not.
We had ridden more than an hour, and the strength the whisky had given me was fast failing, so that I expected each moment to fall from my horse, when suddenly I caught sight of a kind of rude hedge, and, almost immediately afterwards, of the wall of a small blockhouse. A faint cry of joy escaped me, and I endeavoured, but in vain, to give my horse the spur. My guide turned round, fixed his wild eyes upon me, and spoke in a threatening tone.
“You are impatient, man! impatient, I see. You think now, perhaps——”
“I am dying,” was all I could utter. In fact, my senses were leaving me from exhaustion, and I really thought my last hour was come.
“Pooh! dyin’! One don’t die so easy. And yet—d——n!—it might be true.”
He sprang off his horse, and was just in time to catch me in his arms as I fell from the saddle. A few drops of whisky, however, restored me to consciousness. My guide replaced me upon mymustang, and after passing through a potato ground, a field of Indian corn, and a small grove of peach-trees, we found ourselves at the door of the blockhouse.
I was so utterly helpless, that my strange companion was obliged to lift me off my horse, and carry me into the dwelling. He set me down upon a bench, passive and powerless as an infant. Strange to say, I was never better able to observe all that passed around me, than during the few hours of physical debility that succeeded my immersion in the Jacinto. A blow with a reed would have knocked me off my seat, but my mental faculties, instead of participating in this weakness, seemed sharpened to an unusual degree of acuteness.
The blockhouse in which we now were was of the poorest possible description; a mere log hut consisting of one room, that served as kitchen, sitting-room, and bedchamber. The door of rough planks swang heavily upon two hooks, which fitted into iron rings, and formed a clumsy substitute for hinges; a wooden latch and heavy bar served to secure it; windows, properly speaking, there were none, but in their stead a few holes covered with dirty oiled paper; the floor was of clay, stamped hard and dry in the middle, but out of which, at the sides of the room, a crop of rank grass was growing, a foot or more high. In one cornerstood a clumsy bedstead, in another was a sort of bar or counter, on which were half a dozen drinking glasses of various sizes and patterns. The table consisted of four thick posts, firmly planted in the ground, and on which were nailed three boards that had apparently belonged to some chest or case, for they were partly painted, and there was a date, and the three first letters of a word upon one of them. A shelf fixed against the side of the hut supported an earthen pot or two, and three or four bottles, uncorked, and apparently empty; and from some wooden pegs wedged in between the logs, hung suspended a few articles of wearing apparel of no very cleanly aspect.
Pacing up and down the hut with a kind of stealthy cat-like pace, was an individual, whose unprepossessing exterior was in good keeping with the wretched appearance of this Texan shebeen house. He was an undersized, stooping figure, red-haired and large-mouthed, with small reddish pig’s eyes, which he seemed totally unable to raise from the ground, and whose lowering, hang-dog expression corresponded fully with the treacherous, restless, panther-like stealthiness of his step and movements. Without greeting us either by word or look, this personage dived into a dark corner of the tenement, brought out a full bottle, and, placing it and glasses upon the table, resumed the monotonousexercise in which he had been indulging on our entrance.
My guide and deliverer said nothing whilst the tavern-keeper was getting out the bottle, although he watched all his movements with a keen and suspicious eye. He now filled a large glass of spirits, and tossed it off at a single draught. When he had done this, he spoke for the first time.
“Johnny!”
Johnny made no answer.
“This gentleman has eaten nothing for four days.”
“Indeed,” replied Johnny, without looking up, or intermitting his sneaking, restless walk from one corner of the room to the other.
“I said four days, d’ye hear? Four days. Bring him tea immediately, strong tea, and then make some good beef-soup. I know you have bought some tea and rum and sugar. The tea must be ready directly, the soup in an hour at farthest, d’ye understand? And then I want some whisky for myself, and a beefsteak and potatoes. Now, tell all that to your Sambo.”
Johnny did not seem to hear, but continued his walk, creeping along with noiseless step, and each time that he turned, giving a sort of spring like a cat or a panther.
“I’ve money, Johnny,” said my guide. “Money,man, d’ye hear?” And so saying, he produced a tolerably full purse.
For the first time Johnny raised his head, gave an indefinable glance at the purse, and then, springing forward, fixed his small, cunning eyes upon those of my guide, whilst a smile of strange meaning spread over his repulsive features.
The two men stood for the space of a minute, staring at each other, without uttering a word. An infernal grin distended Johnny’s coarse mouth from ear to ear. My guide gasped for breath.
“I’ve money,” cried he at last, striking the butt of his rifle violently on the ground. “D’ye understand, Johnny? Money; and a rifle too, if needs be.”
He stepped to the table and filled another glass of raw spirits, which disappeared like the preceding one. Whilst he drank, Johnny stole out of the room so softly that my companion was only made aware of his departure by the noise of the wooden latch. He then came up to me, took me in his arms without saying a word, and carrying me to the bed, laid me gently down upon it.
“You make yourself at home,” snarled Johnny, who just then came in again.
“Always do that, I reckon, when I’m in a tavern,” answered my guide, quietly pouring out and swallowing another glassful. “The gentleman shall have your bed to-day. You and your Sambomay sleep in the pigsty. You have none though, I believe?”
“Bob!” screamed Johnny furiously.
“That’s my name—Bob Rock.”
“For the present,” hissed Johnny, with a sneer.
“Just as yours is Johnny Down,” replied Bob in the same tone. “Pooh! Johnny, guess we know one another?”
“Rayther calkilate we do,” replied Johnny through his teeth.
“And have done many a day,” laughed Bob.
“You’re the famous Bob from Sodoma in Georgia?”
“Sodoma in Alabama, Johnny. Sodoma lies in Alabama,” said Bob, filling another glass. “Don’t you know that yet, you who were above a year in Columbus, doin’ all sorts of dirty work?”
“Better hold your tongue, Bob,” said Johnny, with a dangerous look at me.
“Pooh! Don’t mind him; he won’t talk, I’ll answer for it. He’s lost the taste for chatterin’ in the Jacinto prairie. But Sodoma,” continued Bob, “is in Alabama, man! Columbus in Georgia! They are parted by the Chatahoochie. Ah! that was a jolly life on the Chatahoochie. But nothin’ lasts in this world, as my old schoolmaster used to say. Pooh! They’ve druv the Injuns a step further over the Mississippi now. But it was a glorious life—warn’t it?”
Again he filled his glass and drank.
The information I gathered from this conversation as to the previous life and habits of these two men, had nothing in it very satisfactory or encouraging for me. In the whole of the south-western States there was no place that could boast of being the resort of so many outlaws and bad characters as the town of Sodoma. It is situated, or was situated, at least, a few years previously to the time I speak of, in Alabama, on Indian ground, and was the harbour of refuge for all the murderers and outcasts from the western and south-western parts of the Union. There, under Indian government, they found shelter and security; and frightful were the crimes and cruelties perpetrated at that place. Scarcely a day passed without an assassination, not secretly committed, but in broad sunlight. Bands of these wretches, armed with knives and rifles, used to cross the Chatahoochie, and make inroads into Columbus; break into houses, rob, murder, ill-treat women, and then return in triumph to their dens, laden with booty, and laughing at the laws. It was useless to think of pursuing them, or of obtaining justice, for they were on Indian territory; and many of the chiefs were in league with them. At length General Jackson and the government took it up. The Indians were driven over the Mississippi, the outlaws and murderers fled, Sodoma itself disappeared; and, releasedfrom its troublesome neighbours, Columbus is now as nourishing a State as any in the west.
The recollections of their former life and exploits seemed highly interesting to the two comrades; and their communications became more and more confidential. Johnny filled himself a glass, and the conversation soon increased in animation. I could understand little of what they said, for they spoke a sort of thieves’ jargon. After a time, their voices sounded as a confused hum in my ears, the objects in the room got gradually less distinct, and I fell asleep.
I was roused, not very gently, by a mulatto woman, who poured a spoonful of tea into my mouth before I had well opened my eyes. She at first did not attend to me with much apparent good-will; but by the time she had given me half-a-dozen spoonsful, her womanly sympathies were awakened, and her manner was kinder. The tea did me an infinite deal of good, and infused new life into my veins. I finished the cup, and the mulatto laid me down again on my pillow, with far more gentleness than she lifted me up.
“Gor! Gor!” cried she, “what poor young man! Berry weak. Him soon better. One hour, massa, good soup.”
“Soup! What do you want with soup?” grumbled Johnny.
“Him take soup. I cook it,” screamed the woman.
“Worse for you if she don’t, Johnny,” said Bob; “worse for you, I say.”
Johnny muttered something in reply, but I did not distinguish what it was, for my eyes closed, and I again fell asleep.
It seemed as if I had not been five minutes slumbering when the mulatto returned with the soup. The tea had revived me, but this gave me strength; and when I had taken it I was able to sit up in the bed.
Whilst the woman fed me, Bob ate his beefsteak. It was a piece of meat that might have sufficed for six persons, but the man was as hungry as if he had eaten nothing for three days. He cut off wedges half as big as his fist, swallowed them with ravenous eagerness, and, instead of bread, bit into some unpeeled potatoes. All this was washed down with glass after glass of raw spirits, which had the effect of wakening him up, and infusing a certain cheerfulness into his strange humour. He still spoke more to himself than to Johnny, but his recollections seemed agreeable; he nodded self-approvingly, and sometimes laughed aloud. At last he began to abuse Johnny for being, as he said, such a sneaking, cowardly fellow—such a treacherous, false-hearted gallows-bird.
“It’s true,” said he, “I am gallows-bird enoughmyself, but then I’m open, and no man can say I’m afeard; but Johnny, Johnny, who——”
I do not know what he was about to say, for Johnny sprang towards him, and placed both hands over his mouth, receiving in return a blow that knocked him as far as the door, through which he retreated, cursing and grumbling.
I soon fell asleep again, and whilst in that state I had a confused consciousness of various noises in the room, loud words, blows, and shouting. Wearied as I was, however, I believe no noise would have fully roused me, although hunger at last did.
When I opened my eyes I saw the mulatto woman sitting by my bed, and keeping off the mosquitoes. She brought me the remainder of the soup, and promised, if I would sleep a couple of hours more, to bring me as good a beefsteak as ever came off a gridiron. Before the two hours had elapsed I awoke, hungrier than ever. After I had eaten all the beefsteak the woman would allow me, which was a very moderate quantity, she brought me a beer-glass full of the most delicious punch I ever tasted. I asked her where she had got the rum and lemons, and she told me that it was she who had bought them, as well as a stock of coffee and tea; that Johnny was her partner, but that he had done nothing but build the house, and badly built it was. She then began to abuseJohnny, and said he was a gambler, and worse still; that he had had plenty of money once, but had lost it all; that she had first known him in Lower Natchez, but he had been obliged to run away from there in the night to save his neck. Bob was no better, she said; on the contrary—and here she made the gesture of cutting a man’s throat—he was a very bad fellow, she added. He had got drunk after his dinner, knocked Johnny down, and broken everything. He was now lying asleep outside the door; and Johnny had hidden himself somewhere.
How long she continued speaking I know not, for I again fell into a deep sleep, which this time lasted six or seven hours.
I was awakened by a strong grasp laid upon my arm, which made me cry out, more, however, from alarm than pain. Bob stood by my bedside; the traces of the preceding night’s debauch plainly written on his haggard countenance. His blood-shot eyes were inflamed and swollen, and rolled with even more than their usual wildness; his mouth was open, and the jaws were stiff and fixed; he looked like one fresh from the perpetration of some frightful deed. I could fancy the first murderer to have worn such an aspect when gazing on the body of his slaughtered brother. I shrank back, horror-struck at his appearance.
“In God’s name, man, what do you want?”
He made no answer.
“You are in a fever. You’ve the ague!”
“Ay, a fever,” groaned he, shivering as he spoke; “a fever, but not the one you mean; a fever, young man, such as God keep you from ever having.”
His whole frame shuddered as he uttered these words. There was a short pause.
“Curious that,” continued he; “I’ve served more than one in the same way, but never thought of it afterwards—was forgotten in less than no time. Got to pay the whole score at once, I suppose. Can’t rest a minute. In the open prairie it’s the worst; there stands the old man, so plain, with his silver beard, and the spectre just behind him.”
His eyes rolled, he clenched his fists, and striking his forehead furiously, rushed out of the hut.
In a few minutes he returned, apparently more composed, and walked straight up to my bed.
“Stranger, you must do me a service,” said he abruptly.
“Ten rather than one,” replied I; “anything that is in my power. Do I not owe you my life?”
“You’re a gentleman, I see, and a Christian. You must come with me to the squire—the Alcalde.”
“To the Alcalde, man? What must I go there for?”
“You’ll see and hear when you get there; I’ve something to tell him—something for his own ear.”
He drew a deep breath, and remained silentfor a short time, gazing anxiously on all sides of him.
“Something,” whispered he, “that nobody else must hear.”
“But there’s Johnny there. Why not take him?”
“Johnny!” cried he, with a scornful laugh; “Johnny! who’s ten times worse than I am, bad as I be; and bad I am to be sure, but yet open and above board, always till this time; but Johnny! he’d sell his own mother. He’s a cowardly, sneakin’, treacherous hound, is Johnny.”
It was unnecessary to tell me this, for Johnny’s character was written plainly enough upon his countenance.
“But why do you want me to go to the Alcalde?”
“Why does one want people before the judge? He’s a judge, man; a Mexican one certainly, but chosen by us Americans; and an American himself, as you and I are.”
“And how soon must I go?”
“Directly. I can’t bear it any longer. It leaves me no peace. Not an hour’s rest have I had for the last eight days. When I go out into the prairie, the spectre stands before me and beckons me on; and if I try to go another way, he comes behind me and drives me before him under the Patriarch. I see him just as plainly as when he was alive, only paler and sadder. It seems as if Icould touch him with my hand. Even the bottle is no use now; neither rum, nor whisky, nor brandy, rid me of him; it don’t, by the ’tarnal.—Curious that! I got drunk yesterday—thought to get rid of him; but he came in the night and drove me out. I was obliged to go. Wouldn’t let me sleep; was forced to go under the Patriarch.”
“Under the Patriarch? the live oak?” cried I, in astonishment. “Were you there in the night?”
“Ay, that was I,” replied he, in the same horribly confidential tone; “and the spirit threatened me, and said, says he, ‘I will leave you no peace, Bob, till you go to the Alcalde and tell him.’”
“Then I will go with you to the Alcalde, and that immediately,” said I, raising myself up in bed. I could not help pitying the poor fellow from my very soul.
“Where are you going?” croaked Johnny, who at this moment glided into the room. “Not a step shall you stir till you’ve paid.”
“Johnny,” said Bob, seizing his less powerful companion by the shoulders, lifting him up like a child, and then setting him down again with such force, that his knees cracked and bent under him;—“Johnny, this gentleman is my guest, d’ye understand? And here is the reckonin’, and mind yourself, Johnny—mind yourself, that’s all.”
Johnny crept into a corner like a flogged hound; the mulatto woman, however, did not seem disposedto be so easily intimidated. Sticking her arms in her sides, she waddled boldly forward.
“You not take him ’way, Massa Bob?” screamed she. “Him stop here. Him berry weak—not able for ride—not able for stand on him foot.”
This was true enough. Strong as I had felt in bed, I could hardly stand upright when I got out of it.
For a moment Bob seemed undecided, but only for one moment; then, stepping up to the mulatto, he lifted her, fat and heavy as she was, in the same manner as he had done her partner, at least a foot from the ground, and carried her screaming and struggling to the door, which he kicked open. Then setting her down outside, “Silence!” roared he, “and some good strong tea instead of your cursed chatter, and a fresh beefsteak instead of your stinking carcass. That will strengthen the gentleman; so be quick about it, you old brown-skinned beast, you!”
I had slept in my clothes, and my toilet was consequently soon made, by the help of a bowl of water and a towel, which Bob made Johnny bring, and then ordered him to go and get our horses ready.
A hearty breakfast of tea, butter, Indian-corn bread, and steaks, increased my strength so much, that I was able to mount my mustang. I had still pains in all my limbs, but we rode slowly; the morning was bright, the air fresh and elastic, and I felt myself getting gradually better. Our pathled through the prairie; the river, fringed with wood, on the one hand, the vast ocean of grass, sprinkled with innumerable islands of trees, on the other. We saw abundance of game, which sprang up under the very feet of our horses; but although Bob had his rifle, he made no use of it. He muttered continually to himself, and seemed to be arranging what he should say to the judge; for I heard him talking of things which I would just as soon not have listened to, if I could have helped it. I was heartily glad when we at length reached the plantation of the Alcalde.
It seemed a very considerable one, and the size and appearance of the framework house bespoke comfort and even luxury. The building was surrounded by a group of China trees, which I should have thought about ten years of age, but which I afterwards learned had not been planted half that time, although they were already large enough to afford a very agreeable shade. Right in front of the house rose a live oak, inferior in size to the one in the prairie, but still of immense age and great beauty. To the left were some two hundred acres of cotton fields, extending to the bank of the Jacinto, which at this spot made a sharp turn, and winding round the plantation, enclosed it on three sides. Before the house lay the prairie, with its archipelago of islands, and herds of grazing cattle and mustangs; to the right, more cotton fields;and in rear of the dwelling, the negro cottages and out-buildings. There was a Sabbath-like stillness pervading the whole scene, which seemed to strike even Bob. He paused as though in deep thought, and allowed his hand to rest for a moment on the handle of the lattice door. Then with a sudden and resolute jerk, bespeaking an equally energetic resolve, he pushed open the gate, and we entered a garden planted with orange, banana, and citron trees, the path through which was enclosed between palisades, and led to a sort of front court, with another lattice-work door, beside which hung a bell. Upon ringing this, a negro appeared.
The black seemed to know Bob very well, for he nodded to him as to an old acquaintance, and said the squire wanted him, and had asked after him several times. He then led the way to a large parlour, very handsomely furnished for Texas, and in which we found the squire, or more properly speaking, the Alcalde, sitting smoking his cigar. He had just breakfasted, and the plates and dishes were still upon the table. He did not appear to be much given to compliments or ceremony, or to partake at all of the Yankee failing of curiosity, for he answered our salutation with a laconic “good-morning,” and scarcely even looked at us. At the very first glance, it was easy to see that he came from Tennessee or Virginia, the only provinces in which one finds men of his gigantic mould. Evensitting, his head rose above those of the negro servants in waiting. Nor was his height alone remarkable; he had the true West-Virginian build; the enormous chest and shoulders, and herculean limbs, the massive features and sharp grey eyes; altogether an exterior well calculated to impose on the rough backwoodsmen with whom he had to deal.
I was tired with my ride, and took a chair. The squire apparently did not deem me worthy of notice, or else reserved me for a later scrutiny; but he fixed a long, searching look upon Bob, who remained standing, with his head sunk on his breast.
The judge at last broke silence.
“So here you are again, Bob. It’s long since we’ve seen you, and I thought you had clean forgotten us. Well, Bob, we shouldn’t have broke our hearts, I reckon; for I hate gamblers—ay, that I do—worse than skunks. It’s a vile thing is play, and has ruined many a man, both in this world and the next. It’s ruined you too, Bob.”
Bob said nothing.
“You’d have been mighty useful here last week; there was plenty for you to do. My step-daughter arrived; but as you weren’t to be found, we had to send to Joel to shoot us a buck and a few dozen snipes. Ah, Bob! one might still make a good citizen of you, if you’d only leave off that cursed play!”
Bob still remained silent.
“Now, go into the kitchen and get some breakfast.”
Bob neither answered nor moved.
“D’ye hear? Go into the kitchen and get something to eat. And, Ptoly”—added he to the negro—“tell Veny to give him a pint of rum.”
“Don’t want yer rum—ain’t thirsty”—growled Bob.
“Very like, very like,” said the judge sharply. “Reckon you’ve taken too much already. Look as if you could swallow a wild cat alive. And you,” added he, turning to me—“Ptoly, what the devil are you at? Don’t you see the man wants his breakfast? Where’s the coffee? Or would you rather have tea?”
“Thank you, Alcalde, I have breakfasted already.”
“Don’t look as if. Ain’t sick, are you? Where do you come from? What’s happened to you? Ain’t got the ague, have you? What are you doing with Bob?”
He looked keenly and searchingly at me, and then again at Bob. My appearance was certainly not very prepossessing, unshaven as I was, and with my clothes and linen soiled and torn. He was evidently considering what could be the motive of our visit, and what had brought me into Bob’s society. The result of his physiognomical observations did not appear very favourable either to me or my companion. I hastened to explain.
“You shall hear how it was, judge. I am indebted to Bob for my life.”
“Your life! Indebted to Bob for your life!” repeated the judge, shaking his head incredulously.
I related how I had lost my way in the prairie; had been carried into the Jacinto by my horse; and how I should inevitably have been drowned but for Bob’s aid.
“Indeed!” said the judge, when I had done speaking. “So Bob saved your life! Is that true, Bob? Well, I am glad of it, Bob—very glad of it. Ah! if you could only keep away from that Johnny. I tell you, Bob, Johnny will be the ruin of you. Better keep out of his way.”
This was spoken gravely and earnestly, the speaker pausing between the sentences to take a pull at his cigar, and a sup out of his glass.
“Yes, Bob,” he repeated; “only keep away from Johnny!”
“It’s too late,” answered Bob.
“Don’t know why it should be. Never too late to leave a debauched, sinful life; never, man!”
“Calkilate it is, though,” replied Bob sullenly.
“You calculate it is?” said the judge, fixing his eyes on him. “And why do you calculate that? Take a glass—Ptoly, a glass—and tell me, man, why should it be too late?”
“I ain’t thirsty, squire,” said Bob.
“Don’t talk to me of your thirst; rum’s not forthirst, but to strengthen the heart and nerves, to drive away the blue devils. And a good thing it is, taken in moderation.”
As he spoke he filled himself a glass, and drank half of it off. Bob shook his head.
“No rum for me, squire. I take no pleasure in it. I’ve something on my mind too heavy for rum to wash away.”
“And what is that, Bob? Come, let’s hear what you’ve got to say. Or, perhaps, you’d rather speak to me alone. It’s Sunday to-day, and no business ought to be done; but for once, and for you, we’ll make an exception.”
“I brought the gentleman with me on purpose to witness what I had to say,” answered Bob, taking a cigar out of a box that stood on the table. Although the judge had not asked him to take one, he very quietly offered him a light. Bob smoked a whiff or two, looked thoughtfully at the judge, and then threw the cigar through the open window.
“It don’t relish, squire; nothin’ does now.”
“Ah, Bob! if you’d leave off play and drink! They’re your ruin; worse than ague or fever.”
“It’s no use,” continued Bob, as if he did not hear the judge’s remark; “it must out. I fo’t agin it, and thought to drive it away, but it can’t be done. I’ve put a bit of lead into several before now, but this one——”
“What’s that?” cried the judge, chucking his cigar away, and looking sternly at Bob. “What’s up now? What are you saying about a bit of lead? None of your Sodoma and Lower Natchez tricks, I hope? They won’t do here. Don’t understand such jokes.”
“Pooh! they don’t understand them a bit more in Natchez. If they did, I shouldn’t be in Texas.”
“The less said of that the better, Bob. You promised to lead a new life here; so we won’t rake up old stories.”
“I did, I did!” groaned Bob; “and I meant it too; but it’s all no use. I shall never be better till I’m hung.”
I stared at the man in astonishment. The judge, however, took another cigar, lighted it, and, after puffing out a cloud of smoke, said, very unconcernedly—
“Not better till you’re hung! What do you want to be hung for? To be sure, you should have been long ago, if the Georgia and Alabama papers don’t lie. But we are not in the States here, but in Texas, under Mexican laws. It’s nothing to us what you’ve done yonder. Where there is no accuser there can be no judge.”
“Send away the nigger, squire,” said Bob. “What a free white man has to say, shouldn’t be heard by black ears.”
“Go away, Ptoly,” said the judge. “Now then,” added he, turning to Bob, “say what you have to say; but mind, nobody forces you to do it, and it’s only out of good-will that I listen to you, for to-day’s Sunday.”
“I know that,” muttered Bob; “I know that, squire; but it leaves me no peace, and it must out. I’ve been to San Felipe de Austin, to Anahuac, everywhere, but it’s all no use. Wherever I go, the spectre follows me, and drives me back under the cursed Patriarch.”
“Under the Patriarch!” exclaimed the judge.
“Ay, under the Patriarch!” groaned Bob. “Don’t you know the Patriarch—the old live oak near the ford, on the Jacinto?”
“I know, I know!” answered the judge. “And what drives you under the Patriarch?”
“What drives me? What drives a man who—who——”
“A man who——” repeated the judge gently.
“A man,” continued Bob, in the same low tone, “who has sent a rifle bullet into another’s heart. He lies there, under the Patriarch, whom I——”
“Whom you?” asked the judge.
“Whom I killed!” said Bob, in a hollow whisper.
“Killed?” exclaimed the judge. “You killed him? Who?”
“Ah! who? Why don’t you let me speak? You always interrupt me with your palaver,” growled Bob.
“You are getting saucy, Bob,” said the judge impatiently. “Go on, however. I reckon it’s only one of your usual tantrums.”
Bob shook his head. The judge looked keenly at him for a moment, and then resumed in a sort of confidential, encouraging tone.
“Under the Patriarch; and how did he come under the Patriarch?”
“I dragged him there, and buried him there,” replied Bob.
“Dragged him there! Why did you drag him there?”
“Because he couldn’t go himself, with more than half an ounce of lead in his body.”
“Andyouput the half ounce of lead into him, Bob? Well, if it was Johnny, you’ve done the country a service, and saved it a rope.”
Bob shook his head negatively.
“It wasn’t Johnny, although——But you shall hear all about it. It’s just ten days since you paid me twenty dollars fifty.”
“I did so, Bob; twenty dollars fifty cents; and I advised you at the same time to let the money lie till you had a couple of hundred dollars, or enough to buy a quarter or an eight of Sitio land; but advice is thrown away upon you.”
“When I got the money, I thought I’d go down to San Felipe, to the Mexicans, and try my luck, and, at the same time, see the doctor about myfever. As I was goin’ there, I passed near Johnny’s house, and fancied a glass, but determined not to get off my horse. I rode up to the window, and looked in. There was a man sittin’ at the table, havin’ a hearty good dinner of steaks and potatoes, and washin’ it down with a stiff glass of grog. I began to feel hungry myself, and while I was considerin’ whether I should ’light or not, Johnny came sneakin’ out, and whispered to me to come in, that there was a man inside with whom somethin’ might be done if we went the right way to work; a man who had a leather belt round his waist cram-full of hard Jackson; and that, if we got out the cards and pretended to play a little together he would soon take the bait and join us.
“I wasn’t much inclined,” continued Bob; “but Johnny bothered me so to go in, that I got off my horse. As I did so, the dollars chinked in my pocket, and the sound was like the devil’s voice ’ticing me to play.
“I went in; and Johnny fetched the whisky bottle. One glass followed another. There were beefsteaks and potatoes too, but I only eat a couple of mouthfuls. When I had drank two, three, ay, four glasses, Johnny brought the cards and dice. ‘Hallo, Johnny!’ says I; ‘cards and dice, Johnny! I’ve twenty dollars fifty in my pocket. Let’s have a game! But no more drink for me; for I know you, Johnny, I know you——’
“Johnny larfed slyly, and rattled the dice, and we sat down to play. I hadn’t meant to drink any more, but play makes one thirsty; and with every glass I got more eager, and my dollars got fewer. I reckoned, however, that the stranger would join us, and that I should be able to win back from him; but not a bit of it: he sat quite quiet, and ate and drank as if he didn’t see we were there. I went on playin’ madder than ever, and before half an hour was over, I was cleaned out; my twenty dollars fifty gone to the devil, or what’s the same thing, into Johnny’s pocket.
“When I found myself without a cent, Iwasmad, I reckon. It warn’t the first time, nor the hundredth, that I had lost money. Many bigger sums than that—ay, hundreds and thousands of dollars had I played away—but they had none of them cost me the hundredth or thousandth part of the trouble to get that these twenty dollars fifty had; two full months had I been slavin’ away in the woods and prairies to airn them, and caught the fever there. The fever I had still, but no money to cure it with. Johnny only larfed in my face, and rattled my dollars. I made a hit at him, which, if he hadn’t jumped on one side, would have cured him of larfin’ for a week or two.
“Presently, however, he came sneakin’ up to me, and winkin’ and whisperin’; and, ‘Bob!’ says he, ‘is it come to that with you? are you grownso chicken-hearted that you don’t see the beltful of money round his body?’ said he lookin’ at it. ‘No end of hard coin, I guess; and all to be had for little more than half an ounce of lead.’”
“Did he say that?” asked the judge.
“Ay, that did he, but I wouldn’t listen to him. I was mad with him for winning my twenty dollars; and I told him that, if he wanted the stranger’s purse, he might take it himself, and be d——d; that I wasn’t goin’ to pull the hot chestnuts out of the fire for him. And I got on my horse, and rode away like mad.
“My head spun round like a mill. I couldn’t get over my loss. I took the twenty dollars fifty more to heart than any money I had ever gambled. I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t dare go back to you, for I knew you would scold me.”
“I shouldn’t have scolded you, Bob; or, if I had, it would only have been for your good. I should have summoned Johnny before me, called together a jury of twelve of the neighbours, got you back your twenty dollars fifty, and sent Johnny out of the country; or, better still, out of the world.”
These words were spoken with much phlegm, but yet with a degree of feeling and sympathy which greatly improved my opinion of the worthy judge. Bob also seemed touched. He drew a deep sigh, and gazed at the Alcalde with a melancholy look.
“It’s too late,” muttered he; “too late, squire.”
“Perhaps not,” replied the judge; “but let’s hear the rest.”
“Well,” continued Bob, “I kept ridin’ on at random, and when evenin’ came I found myself near the palmetto field on the bank of the Jacinto. As I was ridin’ past it, I heard all at once a tramp of a horse. At that moment the queerest feelin’ I ever had came over me; a sort of cold shiverin’ feel. I forgot where I was; sight and hearin’ left me; I could only see two things, my twenty dollars fifty, and the well-filled belt of the stranger I had left at Johnny’s. Just then a voice called to me.
“‘Whence come, countryman, and whither going?’ it said.
“‘Whence and whither,’ answered I, as surly as could be; ‘to the devil at a gallop, and you’d better ride on and tell him I’m comin’.’
“‘You can do the errand yourself,’ answered the stranger, larfin’; ‘my road don’t lie that way.’
“As he spoke, I looked round, and saw, what I was pretty sure of before, that it was the man with the belt full of money.
“‘Ain’t you the stranger I see’d in the inn yonder?’ asked he.
“‘And if I am,’ says I, ‘what’s that to you?’
“‘Nothin’,’ said he; ‘nothin’, certainly.’
“‘Better ride on,’ says I, ‘and leave me quiet.’
“‘Will so, stranger; but you needn’t take it so mighty onkind. A word ain’t a tomahawk, I reckon,’ said he. ‘But I rayther expect yourlosin’s at play ain’t put you in a very church-goin’ humour; and, if I was you, I’d keep my dollars in my pocket, and not set them on cards and dice.’
“It riled me to hear him cast my losin’s in my teeth that way.
“‘You’re a nice feller,’ said I, ‘to throw a man’s losses in his face. A pitiful chapyouare,’ says I.
“I thought to provoke him, and that he’d tackle me. But he seemed to have no fancy for a fight, for he said, quite humble like—
“‘I throw nothin’ in your face; God forbid I should reproach you with your losses! I’m sorry for you, on the contrary. Don’t look like a man who can afford to lose his dollars. Seem to me one who airns his money by hard work.’
“We were just then halted at the further end of the cane-brake, close to the trees that border the Jacinto. I had turned my horse, and was frontin’ the stranger. And all the time the devil was busy whisperin’ to me, and pointin’ to the belt round the man’s waist. I could see where it was, plain enough, though he had buttoned his coat over it.
“‘Hard work, indeed,’ says I; ‘and now I’ve lost everything; not a cent left for a quid of baccy.’
“‘If that’s all,’ says he, ‘there’s help for that. I don’t chew myself, and I ain’t a rich man; I’ve wife and children, and want every cent I’ve got, but it’s one’s duty to help a countryman. You shall have money for tobacco and a dram.’
“And so sayin’, he took a purse out of hispocket, in which he carried his change. It was pretty full; there may have been some twenty dollars in it; and as he drew the string, it was as if the devil laughed and nodded to me out of the openin’ of the purse.
“‘Halves!’ cried I.
“‘No, not that,’ says he; ‘I’ve wife and child, and what I have belongs to them; but half a dollar——’
“‘Halves!’ cried I again, ‘or else——’
“‘Or else?’ repeated he; and as he spoke, he put the purse back into his pocket, and laid hold of the rifle which was slung on his shoulder.
“‘Don’t force me to do you a mischief,’ said he. ‘Don’t,’ says he; ‘we might both be sorry for it. What you’re thinkin’ of brings no blessin’.’
“I was past seein’ or hearin’. A thousand devils from hell possessed me.
“‘Halves!’ I screeched out; and, as I said the word, he sprang out of the saddle, and fell back over his horse’s crupper to the ground.
“‘I’m a dead man!’ cried he, as well as the rattle in his throat would let him. ‘God be merciful to me! My poor wife, my poor children!’”
Bob paused; he gasped for breath, and the sweat stood in large drops upon his forehead. He gazed wildly round the room. The judge himself looked very pale. I tried to rise, but sank back in my chair. Without the table, I believe I should have fallen to the ground.
There was a gloomy pause of some moments’ duration. At last the judge broke silence.
“A hard, hard case!” said he. “Father, mother, children, all at one blow. Bob, you are a bad fellow; a very bad fellow; a great villain!”
“A great villain,” groaned Bob. “The ball was gone right through his breast.”
“Perhaps your gun went off by accident,” said the judge, anxiously. “Perhaps it was his own ball.”
Bob shook his head.
“I see him now, judge, as plain as can be, when he said, ‘Don’t force me to do you a mischief; we might both be sorry for it.’ But I pulled the trigger. His bullet is still in his rifle.
“When I saw him lie dead before me, I can’t tell you what I felt. It warn’t the first I had sent to his account; but yet I would have given all the purses and money in the world to have had him alive agin. I must have dragged him under the Patriarch, and dug a grave with my huntin’-knife, for I found him there afterwards.”
“You found him there?” repeated the judge.
“Yes. I don’t know how he came there. I must have brought him, but I recollect nothin’ about it.”
The judge had risen from his chair, and was walking up and down the room, apparently in deep thought. Suddenly he stopped short.
“What have you done with his money?”
“I took his purse, but buried his belt with him, as well as a flask of rum, and some bread and beefhe had brought away from Johnny’s. I set out for San Felipe, and rode the whole day. In the evenin’, when I looked about me, expectin’ to see the town, where do you think I was?”
The judge and I stared at him.
“Under the Patriarch. The ghost of the murdered man had driven me there. I had no peace till I’d dug him up and buried him agin. Next day I set off in another direction. I was out of tobacco, and I started across the prairie to Anahuac. Lord, what a day I passed! Wherever I went,hestood before me. If I turned,heturned too. Sometimes he came behind me, and looked over my shoulder. I spurred my mustang till the blood came, hopin’ to get away from him, but it was all no use. I thought when I got to Anahuac I should be quit of him, and I galloped on for life or death. But in the evenin’, instead of being close to the salt-works as I expected, there was I agin, under the Patriarch. I dug him up a second time, and sat and stared at him, and then buried him agin.”
“Queer that,” observed the judge.
“Ay, very queer!” said Bob, mournfully. “But it’s all no use. Nothin’ does me any good. I shan’t be better—I shall never have peace till I’m hung.”
Bob evidently felt relieved now; he had in a manner passed sentence on himself. Strange as it may appear, I had a similar feeling, and could not help nodding my head approvingly. The judge alone preserved an unmoved countenance.
“Indeed!” said he; “indeed! You think you’ll be no better till you’re hung?”
“Yes,” answered Bob, with eager haste. “Hung on the same tree under whichhelies buried.”
“Well, if you will have it so, we’ll see what can be done for you. We’ll call a jury of the neighbours together to-morrow.”
“Thank ye, squire,” murmured Bob, visibly comforted by this promise.
“We’ll summon a jury,” repeated the Alcalde, “and see what can be done for you. You’ll perhaps have changed your mind by that time.”
I stared at him like one fallen from the clouds, but he did not seem to notice my surprise.
“There is, perhaps, some other way to get rid of your life, if you are tired of it,” he continued. “We might hit upon one that would satisfy your conscience.”
Bob shook his head. I involuntarily made the same movement.
“At any rate, we’ll hear what the neighbours say,” added the judge.
Bob stepped up to the judge, and held out his hand to bid him farewell. The other did not take it, and turning to me, said, “Youhad better stop here, I think.”
Bob turned round impetuously.
“The gentleman must come with me.”
“Why must he?” said the judge.
“Ask himself.”
I again explained the obligations I was under to Bob, how we had fallen in with one another, and what care and attention he had shown me at Johnny’s.
The judge nodded approvingly. “Nevertheless,” said he, “you will remain here, and Bob will go alone. You are in a state of mind, Bob, in which a man is better alone, d’ye see; and so leave the young man here. Another misfortune might happen; and, at any rate, he’s better here than at Johnny’s. Come back to-morrow, and we’ll see what can be done for you.”
These words were spoken in a decided manner, which seemed to have its effect upon Bob. He nodded assentingly, and left the room. I remained staring at the judge, and lost in wonder at these strange proceedings.
When Bob was gone, the Alcalde gave a blast on a shell, which supplied the place of a bell. Then seizing the cigar-box, he tried one cigar after another, broke them peevishly up, and threw the pieces out of the window. The negro, whom the shell had summoned, stood for some time waiting, whilst his master broke up the cigars and threw them away. At last the judge’s patience seemed quite to leave him.
“Hark ye, Ptoly!” growled he to the frightened black, “the next time you bring me cigars that neither draw nor smoke, I’ll make your back smoke for it. Mind that, now. There’s not a single one of them worth a rotten maize-stalk. Tell that oldcoffee-coloured hag of Johnny’s, that I’ll have no more of her cigars. Ride over to Mr Ducie’s and fetch a box. And, d’ye hear? tell him I want to speak a word with him and the neighbours. Ask him to bring the neighbours with him to-morrow morning. And mind you’re home again by two o’clock. Take the mustang we caught last week. I want to see how he goes.”
The negro listened to these various commands with open mouth and staring eyes, then, giving a perplexed look at his master, shot out of the room.
“Whither away, Ptoly?” shouted the Alcalde after him.
“To Massa Ducie.”
“Without a pass, Ptoly? And what are you going to say to Mr Ducie?”
“Him nebber send bad cigar again, him coffee-cullud hag. Massa speak to Johnny and neighbours. Johnny bring neighbours here.”
“I thought as much,” said the judge, with perfect equanimity. “Wait a minute; I’ll write the pass, and a couple of lines for Mr Ducie.”
This was soon done, and the negro despatched on his errand. The judge waited till he heard the sound of the horse’s feet galloping away, and then, laying hold of the box of despised cigars, lit the first which came to hand. It smoked capitally, as did also one that I took. They were Principes, and as good as I ever tasted.
I passed the whole of that day alone with thejudge, who, I soon found, knew various friends of mine in the States. I told him the circumstances under which I had come to Texas, and the intention I had of settling there, should I find the country to my liking. During our long conversation, I was able to form a very different, and much more favourable, estimate of his character, than I had done from his interview with Bob. He was the very man to be useful to a new country; of great energy, sound judgment, enlarged and liberal views. He gave me some curious information as to the state of things in Texas; and did not think it necessary to conceal from me, as an American, and one who intended settling in the country, that there was a plan in agitation for throwing off the Mexican yoke, and declaring Texas an independent republic. The high-spirited, and, for the most part, intelligent emigrants from the United States, who formed a very large majority of the population of Texas, saw themselves, with no very patient feeling, under the rule of a people both morally and physically inferior to themselves. They looked with contempt, and justly so, on the bigoted, idle, and ignorant Mexicans, whilst the difference of religion, and interference of the priests, served to increase the dislike between the Spanish and Anglo-American races.
Although the project was as yet not quite ripe for execution, it was discussed freely and openly by the American settlers. “It is the interest ofevery man to keep it secret,” said the judge; “and there can be nothing to induce even the worst amongst us to betray a cause, by the success of which he is sure to profit. We have many bad characters in Texas, the offscourings of the United States—men like Bob, or far worse than him; but debauched, gambling, drunken villains though they be, they are the men we want when it comes to a struggle; and when that time arrives, they will all be found ready to put their shoulders to the wheel, use knife and rifle, and shed the last drop of their blood in defence of their fellow-citizens, and of the new and independent republic of Texas. At this moment we must wink at many things which would be severely punished in an older and more settled country; each man’s arm is of immense value to the State; for on the day of battle we shall have, not two to one, but twenty to one opposed to us.”
I was awakened the following morning by the sound of a horse’s feet; and, looking out of the window, saw Bob dismounting from his mustang. The last twenty-four hours had told fearfully upon him. His limbs seemed powerless, and he reeled and staggered in such a manner that I at first thought him intoxicated. But such was not the case. His was the deadly weariness caused by mental anguish. He looked like one just taken off the rack.
Hastily putting on my clothes, I hurried down stairs and opened the house door. Bob stood with his head resting on his horse’s neck, and his handscrossed, shivering and groaning. When I spoke to him, he looked up, but did not seem to know me. I tied his horse to a post, and taking his hand, led him into the house. He followed like a child, apparently without the will or the power to resist; and when I placed him a chair, he fell into it with a weight that made it crack under him, and shook the house. I could not get him to speak, and was about to return to my room to complete my toilet, when I again heard the tramp of mustangs. This was a party of half-a-dozen horsemen, all dressed in hunting-shirts over buckskin breeches and jackets, and armed with rifles and bowie-knives; stout, daring-looking fellows, evidently from the south-western states, with the true Kentucky half-horse half-alligator profile, and the usual allowance of thunder, lighting, and earthquake. It struck me, when I saw them, that two or three thousand such men would have small difficulty in dealing with a whole army of Mexicans, if the latter were all of the pigmy, spindle-shanked breed I had seen on first landing. These giants could easily have walked away with a Mexican in each hand.
They jumped off their horses, and threw the bridles to the negroes in the usual Kentuckian devil-may-care style, and then walked into the house with the air of people who make themselves at home everywhere, and who knew themselves to be more masters in Texas than the Mexicans themselves. On entering the parlour, they nodded a“good morning” to me, rather coldly to be sure, for they had seen me talking with Bob, which probably did not much recommend me. Presently, four more horsemen rode up, and then a third party, so that there were now fourteen of them assembled, all decided-looking men, in the prime of life and strength. The judge, who slept in an adjoining room, had been awakened by the noise. I heard him jump out of bed, and not three minutes elapsed before he entered the parlour.
After he had shaken hands with all his visitors, he presented me to them, and I found that I was in the presence of no less important persons than the Ayuntamiento of San Felipe de Austin; and that two of my worthy countrymen were corregidors, one a procurador, and the othersbuenos hombres, or freeholders. They did not seem, however, to prize their titles much, for they addressed one another by their surnames only.
The negro brought a light, opened the cigar-box, and arranged the chairs; the judge pointed to the sideboard and to the cigars, and then sat down. Some took a dram, others lit a cigar.
Several minutes elapsed, during which the men sat in perfect silence, as if they were collecting their thoughts, or as though it were undignified to show any haste or impatience to speak. This grave sort of deliberation, which is met with among certain classes, and in certain provinces of the Union, has often struck me as a curious feature of ournational character. It partakes of the stoical dignity of the Indian at his council fire, and of the stern religious gravity of the early Puritan settlers in America.
During this pause Bob was writhing on his chair like a worm, his face concealed by his hands, his elbows on his knees. At last, when all had drunk and smoked, the judge laid down his cigar.
“Men!” said he.
“Squire!” answered they.
“We’ve a business before us, which I calculate will be best explained by him whom it concerns.”
The men looked at the Squire, then at Bob, then at me.
“Bob Rock! or whatever your name may be, if you have aught to say, say it!” continued the judge.
“Said it all yesterday,” muttered Bob, his face still covered by his hands.
“Yes, but you must say it again to-day. Yesterday was Sunday, and Sunday is a day of rest, and not of business. I will neither judge you, nor allow you to be judged, by what you said yesterday. Besides, it was all between ourselves, for I don’t reckon Mr Morse as anything; I count him still as a stranger.”
“What’s the use of so much palaver, when the thing’s plain enough?” said Bob peevishly, raising his head as he spoke.
The men stared at him in grave astonishment. He was really frightful to behold: his face of a sortof blue tint; his cheeks hollow; his beard wild and ragged; his blood-shot eyes rolling, and deep sunk in their sockets. His appearance was scarcely human. “I tell you again,” said the judge, “I will condemn no man upon his own word alone; much less you, who have been in my service, and eaten of my bread. You accused yourself yesterday, but you were delirious at the time—you had the fever upon you.”
“It’s no use, Squire,” said Bob, apparently touched by the kindness of the judge. “You mean well, I see; but though you might deliver me out of men’s hands, you couldn’t rescue me from myself. It’s no use—I must be hung—hung on the same tree under which the man I killed lies buried.”
The men, or the jurors, as I may call them, looked at one another, but said nothing.
“It’s no use,” again cried Bob, in a shrill, agonising tone. “If he had attacked me, or only threatened me; but no, he didn’t do it. I hear his words still, when he said, ‘Do it not, man! I’ve wife and child. What you intend brings no blessin’ on the doer.’ But I heard nothin’ then except the voice of the devil; I brought the rifle down—levelled—fired—”
The man’s agony was so intense that even the iron-featured jury seemed moved by it. They cast sharp but stolen glances at Bob. There was a short silence.
“So you have killed a man?” said a deep bass voice at last.
“Ay, that have I!” gasped Bob.
“And how came that?” continued his questioner.
“How it came? You must ask the devil, or Johnny. No, not Johnny, he can tell you nothing; he was not there. No one can tell you but me; and I hardly know how it was. The man was at Johnny’s, and Johnny showed me his belt full of money.”
“Johnny!” exclaimed several of the jury.
“Ay, Johnny! He reckoned on winning it from him, but the man was too cautious for that; and when Johnny had plucked all my feathers, won my twenty dollars fifty——”
“Twenty dollars fifty cents,” interposed the judge, “which I paid him for catching mustangs and shooting game.”
The men nodded.
“And then, because he wouldn’t play, you shot him?” asked the same deep-toned voice as before.
“No—some hours after—by the Jacinto—near the Patriarch—met him down there, and killed him.”