Cat standing alert facing forward.
Peaslee, where were you when that shot was fired?" asked Farnsworth, and as he spoke he turned and looked toward Solomon, whose seat was some three or four places to his left, on the same side of the table.
Had the question not been uttered,it would have died upon his lips, so much surprised was he at what he saw.
Mr. Peaslee, white and trembling with some strong emotion, had his hands upon the table and was raising himself, slowly and painfully, to his feet. He rolled his eyes, which looked bigger and more pathetic than ever behind his glasses, toward Farnsworth at the sound of his voice, but the young man knew instinctively that Solomon, moved by some strong idea of his own, had not grasped the question.
"Gentlemen," Mr. Peaslee began, in shaky tones, "I guess I got aword to say afore ye find a true bill agin that little feller. He's as peaceable a boy as ever I saw, and I guess I can't let him stay all bolted and barred into no jail, when it don't need anythin' but my say-so to get him out. Ye see, gentlemen,"—Solomon paused, moistened his dry mouth, and cast a timorous look over the puzzled faces of the jurymen,—"ye see, 't was me that shot Lamoury."
Not a sound came from the grand jury; the members sat and stared at him in blank wonder, hardly able to credit their ears. Paige, the state's attorney, who was making somenotes at the time, held his pen for a good half-minute part way between his paper and the inkstand while he gazed in astonishment at Peaslee. To have a grand juror, a sober, respectable man, rise in the jury-room and confess that he is the real offender in a case under consideration, is not usual. The surprise was absolute.
For Farnsworth, it was more than a surprise; it was a relief. Then his betrothed had been right; Jim had not fired the shot! He felt a glow of admiration for Nancy's sure intuition and loyalty to her pupil. He rejoiced that Jim was cleared for her sakeand for the boy's. Insensibly he had grown more and more interested in Jim and attached to him. Now—everything was explained.
Everything? No, Jim's strange activity in concealing the evidences of the shot, his queer reserve when questioned as to what he knew—these seemed more perplexing than ever.
Farnsworth, hoping for light upon these points, settled back in his chair to listen. Mr. Peaslee had more to say.
"It kinder goes agin the grain," Solomon resumed, with a weary, deprecatory smile, "to own upyou've been actin' like a fool, but I guess I got to do it.
"This was the way on 't: I stepped over to Ed'ards's jest to talk over matters and things. Well, I couldn't seem to raise anybody to the front of the house, so I kinder slid into the boy's room to see if there wasn't somebody out back. There wa'n't. There didn't seem to be anybody to home.
"Now, gentlemen, seems as though you'd see how 't was when I tell ye. There's an old white and yaller cat, with a kinder sassy patch over her eye,"—Mr. Peaslee's meek voice here took ona trace of heat,—"that's been a-pesterin' the life out o' me goin' on a year. I guess ye know how 't is—one of them pesky, yowlin', chicken-stealin', rusty old nuisances that hain't any sociability to 'em, anyhow.
"Well, there she was a-settin', comfortable as a hot punkin pie, and lookin' as if she owned the place. And there was the boy's gun right there handy. The cat riled me so, I jest loaded her up. 'T wa'n't in human natur' not to, now was it? 'T wa'n't nothin' but bird shot, so I sorter stuck in a marble. It couldn't do no harm,and it might kinder help a leetle. And I just fired her off. I didn't expect to hit any French Canadian; I didn't know there was any of the critters round.
"Then when I see a feller fall out of the bushes I was scared, now I tell ye. Here I was, member of the grand jury, and everything, and it didn't somehow seem right and fittin' for no member of the grand jury to be fillin' up a feller human bein' with bird shot an' marbles. I guess I didn't think much what I was a-doin' of, no-how. 'T any rate, I jest sneaked off home, and then I jest let thingsslip along and slide along till here I be. I guess if a true bill's got to be found agin any one, it's got to be found agin me."
And Mr. Peaslee sank huddled and hopeless into his chair.
His fellow members were for a moment silent. But soon this tale of a cat, bird shot, and an unexpected Canadian began to disclose a comic aspect; the plight of poor, respectable Mr. Peaslee, in all the fresh honors of his jurorship, began to show a ludicrous side; their own position as grave men seeing what they thought a serious offense change, as by magic, into afarcical accident, bit by bit revealed its humor.
Sampson, the foreman, glanced at Paige, the state's attorney. The young man's face wore an odd expression. Their eyes met, and Sampson's mouth began to twitch. Albion Small, who was "consid'able of a joker," suddenly choked. Farnsworth, having revealed to him in a flash the significance of the harmonica "with harp attachment," gave way and laughed outright.
Smiles appeared on faces all round the table; and as the comicality of the whole affair more and more struck upon their astonished minds,the smiles became a general laugh, the laugh a roar. And this mirth had so good-humored a note that Solomon, taking heart, looked about the table with a sheepish grin.
But his heart sank and his grin vanished when his eyes fell upon Abijah Keith. For Abijah did not smile. He sat grim as fate, stern disapproval of all this levity expressed in every deep fold of his wrinkled old countenance.
A formidable person was Abijah. He had a great brush of white hair, which stood up fiercely from his narrow forehead; a high, arched nose like the beak of a hawk, on whichrested a pair of huge round spectacles; a mouth like a straight line inclosed between a great parenthesis of leathery wrinkles. Up from under his old-fashioned stock, round a chin like a paving-stone, curled an aggressive, white, wiry beard, and his blue eyes were steel-bright and hard.
"Can't see what you're cackling so for!" he exclaimed, his shrill accents full of contempt. "Actin' like a passel of hens! There's a man shot, ain't they? Somebody shot him, didn't they? He"—and Abijah pointed a knotted, skinny, hard old finger at the shrinking Solomon—"he shot him, didn't he? Ser'usbusiness,Icall it. Guess the grand jury's got suthin' to say to it, hain't they? Cat? Cat's foot,Isay. Likely story, likely story. Don't believe a word on 't."
Solomon dared to steal a look, and was not reassured to see in the jurymen's faces doubt replacing mirth. Then Hiram Hopkins's hearty voice, ringing with opposition, struck upon his delighted ear. He remembered Hiram's dislike for the cantankerous Keith. Here perhaps was a defender.
"Oh, come, Mr. Keith! Oh, come now!" he heard Hopkins exclaim. "What's the use of raising a rumpus? It wasn't nothing but bird shot. Folks don't go murdering folks with bird shot."
"Don't care if 't was bird shot!" came Abijah's snapping tones. "Don't care if 't was pin-heads; principle's the same."
"It is, it is!" admitted Solomon, in his soul.
"Well," said Hiram, with a common sense in which Mr. Peaslee took comfort, "the practical effect is mighty different. Gentlemen," he added to the jurors, "I can't see that we've got any call to go any further with this. Peaslee was just shooting at a cat. I don't see thesense of taking up the time of the court and makin' expense for any such foolishness. I say we'd better dismiss young Edwards's case, and Peaslee's along with it. It's such fool doings, I think we'd better, if only to keep folks from laughing at the grand jury."
Solomon's heart was in his mouth. Would the others take this view—or Keith's?
"Oily talk, dretful oily talk!" came Abijah's fierce pipe. "Don't take any stock in 't. Shot him, didn't he? Grand juror—what difference does that make? If they ain't fit, weed 'em out—weed 'em out!"
"Fit?" said Hiram. "It took some spunk to get up there and tell just what a fool he'd been, didn't—"
"Humph!" Abijah interrupted, with a snort. "Had to, didn't he? Farnsworth asked him where he was, didn't he? Had to squirm out somehow, didn't he? Got about as much spine as a taller candle with the wick drawed out, accordin' to his own showin'. Better weed him out, better weed him out! Humph!"
Poor Mr. Peaslee sank still lower in his chair; his head fell still lower on his chest. They were taking away from him even the credit of voluntary confession. Why hadFarnsworth asked that question? In casting doubt upon his one brave deed fate seemed to him to have done its worst.
"He'd got up before I put the question," said Farnsworth.
He wished to be just. But he was indignant with Peaslee. After his first laughter, his thoughts had dwelt upon the trouble that Solomon had brought upon the innocent Jim, "just to save his own hide, the old—skee-zicks!" he exclaimed to himself.
After all, what did he know about Peaslee? If the man had merely shot at a cat, why under the sun should he not have said so at once,and saved all this bother? The more he thought, the more indignant he grew—and the more doubtful. He did not notice at all the look of timid gratitude which Mr. Peaslee cast in his direction.
"Course he was up before you spoke!" Solomon was further gratified to hear Hopkins declare, in his big, hearty voice. "And I think a man who owns up fair and square just when it's hardest to has got spine enough to hold him together, anyhow."
"Up before ye asked him!" Abijah turned on Farnsworth. "Up for what? Tell me that, will ye?"
And Solomon, listening anxiously for Farnsworth's answer, was depressed to hear him give merely a good-humored laugh at Uncle Abijah's thrust.
"Mr. Peaslee," asked Sampson, so unexpectedly that Solomon jumped, "didn't you say something about a marble?"
"Yes," said Mr. Peaslee, gloomily.
"Fit the bore, did it?" continued the foreman.
"Slick," answered Mr. Peaslee, with the brevity of despair.
"If that marble fitted the bore," said Albion Small, while Sampsonnodded assent, "it's my opinion it might do considerable damage."
His opinion had weight, for Small was a hunter of repute. Recovered from their amusement, the grand jurors had become gradually impressed with the idea that Mr. Peaslee's confession still left some awkward questions unanswered. If the matter were so simple as he said, why had he kept silent so long?
The jurymen came from all over the rather large county, and although they all had some knowledge of the principal men of Ellmington, and although such of them as had dealings at its bankhad met Mr. Peaslee, none of them knew him well. He was a newcomer at the village, and when at his farm had not had a wide acquaintance.
They looked to Farnsworth as his fellow townsman to speak for him; but Farnsworth said nothing, and seemed preoccupied and doubtful. The inference was that he shared their perplexity. They felt that Keith, for all his "cantankerousness," might be right. Solomon could draw no comfort from their faces.
All this while Paige had been playing with his watch-chain andwatching Abijah, whose character he appreciated, with discreet amusement; but he found himself in essential agreement with the peppery old fellow.
"Ask the state's attorney, why don't ye?" put in Keith, impatiently. "He'll tell ye I've got the rights on 't. Ain't afraid, be ye?"
Sampson smiled. "Mr. State's Attorney," he said, turning to Paige, "I guess perhaps you'd better give us the law of this."
"Well, gentlemen," said Paige, "as a matter of law, Mr. Keith would seem to be right," and at the word Solomon's spirits sank to new depths.
"Didn't I tell ye?" said Abijah, triumphantly.
Had the state's attorney said that he was wrong, the old man would have called him a popinjay to his face. Abijah's exclamation was not deference to legal knowledge; it was merely quick seizure of a tactical point.
"Lamoury was shot," Paige went on, with a little smile at Keith's interruption, "and by his own statement, Mr. Peaslee shot him. On his own admission, his gun was dangerously loaded. Although a boy, a neighbor's son, was charged, through his act, with a serious offense againstthe laws, he made no confession. And when, at last, he did speak, it is at least open to debate whether he did it of his own volition, or because he was forced to do so by the embarrassing question put to him by one of your number. I don't impugn his veracity, but I am bound to remark that he is an interested witness. All this is a question of fact for you to consider.
"I think you should know a little more. To determine if there was any motive, you need to know if there was any bad blood between Mr. Peaslee and Lamoury; to find an indictment to fit the case you needto know how badly Lamoury is hurt. I think you should have Lamoury here. Cross-questioning him, and perhaps Mr. Peaslee,"—Solomon shivered,—"should establish whether the shot was accidental, as the accused says, or intentional, as Lamoury contends. I'll have the complainant here to-morrow, if it's a possible thing. As there's no formal charge—as yet—against Mr. Peaslee, I think you may properly postpone until then the question of entering a complaint or making an arrest, if necessary,"—Solomon shivered again,—"and of his proper holding for appearance before thecourt. Meanwhile, I suggest that you dispose of the case against young Edwards, and then adjourn. Mr. Peaslee," he added significantly, "will of course be present to-morrow morning."
"Sartain, sartain," answered poor Solomon, tremulously.
It was already late, and when the grand jury had formally dismissed the complaint against Jim, the hour was so advanced that adjournment was taken for the day. When Mr. Peaslee left the court house no one spoke to him, and he walked slowly home, full of the worst forebodings.
Why had he put in that marble?Relieved of his burden of anxiety and remorse in regard to Jim, he began to think more definitely than he had done heretofore of the possibility of serious harm to Lamoury. It was dreadful to think that he might have badly wounded an inoffensive man. Was Lamoury much hurt? What would happen to a marble in a shotgun, anyhow? Would he be arrested? Would his case get to trial? Could he, without a single witness, prove that it was an accident? The sinister figure of Jake Hibbard rose before him, and made him feel helpless and frightened. The future looked black.
He turned to face the storm.HE TURNED TO FACE THE STORM
"But I done right," he tried to console himself by saying. "I done right."
Better late than never, to be sure; but if genuine comfort in a good deed is sought, it is best to act at once. Mr. Peaslee could feel but small satisfaction in his tardy confession.
Moreover, he must now face his wife. As he turned with reluctant feet into his own yard he fairly shrank in anticipation under the sharp hail of her biting words.
To postpone a little the inevitable, to gather strength somewhat to meet the shock, he passed the kitchen porch and went on toward the barn.Seating himself upon an upturned pail, he stayed there a long while, still as a statue, while he chewed the cud of bitter reflection.
After a while, at the barn door there was a familiar flash of white and yellow. Looking wearily up he saw the great, green eyes of the Calico Cat fastened upon him in fierce distrust. She had one foot uplifted as if she did not know whether it was safe to put it down, and in her mouth, pendent, was a Calico Kitten.
Mr. Peaslee, silent and immovable, watched her with apathetic eyes. Finally, as if assured he wasnot dangerous, she put down her foot and disappeared with soft and cushioned tread into the dim recesses of the barn. Yet a little while and she again appeared in the doorway with a second duplicate of herself. Again an interval, and she brought a third.
"Well," said Solomon to himself, his spirit quite crushed, "I guess she ain't bringing no more than belong to me by rights."
Nevertheless, he could not endure to see any others. He went desperately into the house, where he found his wife fuming over his delay.
"I guess I may as well tell ye, first as last," he said, in a sort of stubborn despair. "'T was me that shot Lamoury."
"You!" exclaimed his wife, dropping her knife and fork, and looking at him as if she thought he had taken leave of his senses.
"I guess I'm the feller," he averred, with queer, pathetic humor. And turning a patient, rounded back to his wife's expected indignation, he told his story while he nervously washed at the sink, and fumblingly dried his face and hands in the coarse roller towel. He made these operations last as long as his confession. Then, at an end of his resources, he turned to face the storm.
Mrs. Peaslee simply looked at him. She struggled to speak, but she found herself in the predicament of one who has used up all ammunition on the skirmish-line, and comes helpless to the battle. She simply could think of nothing adequate to say.
She stared at her husband while he stared out of the window.
Then she gave it up.
"Draw up your chair!" she said sharply. "I guess ye got to eat, whatever ye be!"
Cat drinking from saucer.
Whenthe grand jury dispersed after Mr. Peaslee's confession, Farnsworth, first speaking a few words to Paige, the state's attorney, hurried toward the Union School. As he expected, he met Miss Ware coming from it on her way to her boarding-house.
He waved his hat, and called:—
"Jim's free!"
As he reached her side he added, "He didn't fire the shot at all."
"Of course he didn't!" cried Nancy, triumphantly. "Didn't I tell you? But who did, and how did you find out?"
"Peaslee," said Farnsworth. "He owned up."
"Mr. Peaslee! Then that awful harmonica—Why, the wretch!"
"Sh!" warned Farnsworth. "Not so loud! These are jury-room secrets which I'm not supposed to tell."
But he told them, nevertheless. As the two walked along together,he gave her an account of all that had happened.
"But what I don't understand," he concluded, "is what made Jim behave so. What did he clean his gun for? Why did he hide the rags and put away the ammunition? He acted just as if he were trying to shield some one. We know he wasn't trying to shield himself, and I don't see why he should shield Peaslee."
"Fred!" said Nancy, stopping and facing him. "Jim knew that his father was the only person in the house, didn't he?"
"Yes," said Farnsworth.
"Then he thought his father did it!"
"O pshaw!" exclaimed Farnsworth. "He couldn't!"
"Don't be rude, Fred!" admonished Nancy. "Wasn't I right before? Well, I'm right now. How could he have thought anything else? I'm going straight to the jail and find out. And can we get him away from that jail?"
"Yes," said Farnsworth. "I spoke to Paige. He said he'd bring the boy in and have him discharged this afternoon. He has to appear before the judge, you know, before he can be let go."
"That's nice," said Nancy. "Now, Fred, you go straight to Mr. Edwards and bring him up there, too. I don't suppose any one's thought to tell him."
"But I haven't had any dinner," objected Farnsworth.
"Dinner!" exclaimed Miss Ware, in deep scorn, and Farnsworth laughed and surrendered.
They separated then. Miss Ware took the side street to the jail, while Farnsworth hurried along toward Edwards's house.
"Mr. Edwards," he said, when that gentleman appeared at the door, "Miss Ware wants you right awayat the jail," and as he spoke he was struck with the strain which showed in the man's face. "He must have felt it a good deal," he reflected, with surprise.
A sudden fear showed in Mr. Edwards's eyes.
"Jim isn't sick, is he?" he asked.
"Oh, no!" replied Farnsworth, hastily. "He's cleared, that's all. We'll have him out of jail this afternoon."
"Cleared?" repeated Mr. Edwards, distrustfully. Was Farnsworth joking? Nothing was more certain in the father's mind than that Jim had fired the shot. Noother supposition was possible. His face grew severe at the thought that Farnsworth was trifling with him.
"Yes, cleared!" said the young man, somewhat nettled. "We have absolute, certain proof that Jim hadn't anything to do with it."
"I should like to hear it," said Mr. Edwards, coldly.
"Well, we have the real offender's own confession," said Farnsworth, irritated at the incredulity of the man. What was the fellow made of?
Mr. Edwards said nothing. He turned and got his hat, and walked with Farnsworth up the street thehalf-mile to the jail. His face was impassive, but his movements had a new alertness, and Farnsworth noted that he had to walk painfully fast to keep up with this much older man.
Edwards, in spite of his cold exterior, was a man of strong feeling, and there was, in fact, a deep joy and a deep regret at his heart. He knew with thankfulness that he had a truthful and courageous son. He saw with passionate self-reproach that he had done the boy a great injustice. But why, why had Jim cleaned the gun?
Farnsworth, little guessing theturmoil in the heart of the grave man by his side, was wondering if, after all, Miss Ware could be right in thinking that Jim had sacrificed himself for this unfeeling parent.
"If she is right," he reflected, thinking how harsh had been the father's treatment of the boy, "what a little brick Jim is!"
He had a very human desire to present this view and prick this automaton into some show of life.
"Mr. Edwards," he said suddenly, "Jim knew, didn't he, that you were the only person besides himself at home?"
"I suppose so."
"Does it occur to you that he may have thought you did the shooting?"
"That can't be so," said Mr. Edwards; but there was a note of shocked concern, of dismay, in his tone which satisfied Farnsworth, and again he thought more kindly of his companion.
And Mr. Edwards was stirred by the unexpected question. After all, he thought, since Jim was not trying to shield himself, whom else could he wish to shield? And a sudden deep enthusiasm filled him for this son who was not only courageous and truthful, but who, inspite of his unjust treatment, was loyal, who—he thrilled at the word—loved him! But no, it was not possible! How could his son have thought that he could accuse his boy of what he had done himself?
And upon this doubt, he found himself with a quickened pulse at the door of the jail. Farnsworth rang the bell. Soon they stood in Mrs. Calkins's sitting-room, facing Jim and Nancy. And then Miss Ware caught Farnsworth by the arm and drew him quickly into the hall, and shut the door behind her.
"I'm certain!" she whispered, breathlessly. "When I told Jimfirst, he wasn't glad at all, until I managed to let him know his father wasn't arrested. O Fred, that boy's a little trump!"
Meanwhile, in Mrs. Calkins's sitting-room, father and son faced each other, and it would be hard to say which of the two was the more embarrassed.
But certain questions burned on Mr. Edwards's lips.
"Jim," he said, with anxious emotion, "did you think thatIshot Lamoury?"
"Yes, sir," said Jim.
"But why, my boy, why should I want to shoot him?"
"Lamoury had been telling," said Jim, highly embarrassed.
"Telling?" said his father, in perplexity.
"Yes, sir," said Jim, "you know—about your being a—a smuggler."
Much astonished, Mr. Edwards pushed his questions, and soon came to know the depth and breadth of his boy's misconception.
"Then," he said finally, "when I accused you of having fired the shot, you thought I had to do so to avoid an arrest which would be serious for me. Is that it?"
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Edwards could not speak fora moment for emotion. Then he drew the boy to him.
"My son, my son," he said, "you and I must know each other better."
And by the same token, Jim realized that his father was proud of him and loved him. It was new and sweet. He felt a little foolish, but very happy.
"Jim," his father said huskily, "would you like a new breech-loader?"
And then Jim was happier still.
Those were reluctant feet which dragged Mr. Peaslee the next morning to the jury-room. The counsel ofthe night had brought no comfort, and when he came among his fellows their constraint and silence were far from reassuring. Nor, when the sitting had begun, did he like the enigmatic smile with which the well-dressed Paige stood and swung his watch-chain. How he distrusted and feared this smug, self-complacent young man! Yet the state's attorney's first words brought him unexpected comfort.
"Mr. Lamoury," he said, still with that puzzling smile, "has consented, in spite of his serious physical condition, to appear before you."
Lamoury could not be so badly hurt if he could come to the court house! But what was this? While the state's attorney held wide the door, Jake Hibbard solemnly pushed into the room a great wheeled chair, in which sat the small, wiry, furtive-eyed Lamoury.
Mr. Peaslee's heart sank as he saw the wheeled chair, and noted the great bandages about the Frenchman's head and arm. He listened apprehensively to the loud complaint of cruelty to his client which Hibbard continued to make, until Paige, pulling the chair into the room, blandly shut the door in hisface. Mr. Peaslee heaved a great sigh of mingled contrition and fear. This wreck was his work; he would be punished for it.
"Mr. Lamoury," Paige began courteously, "we so wished to get your version of this painful affair that, though we are sorry to cause you any discomfort, we have felt obliged to bring you here. Will you kindly tell the gentlemen of the grand jury what happened?"
"Yes, seh, me, Ah'll tol' heem!" said Lamoury, eagerly.
Confident that no one knew anything about what had happened except Jim Edwards and himself,he intended to make his narrative striking.
"Yes, seh, Ah'll tol' de trut'. Well, seh, Ah'll be goin' t'rough M'sieu' Edwards's horchard—walkin' t'rough same as any mans. Den I look, han' I see dat leetly boy in de windy, a-shoutin' and a-cussin' lak he gone crazee in hees head. Ah tol' you Ah feel bad for hear dat leetly boy cussin'. Dat was too shame."
And Lamoury paused to let this beautiful sentiment impress itself upon the jurors. Mr. Peaslee listened with profound astonishment.
"Den he holler somet'ing Ahain't hear, honly 'Canuck,' han' Ah begins for get my mads up. Ah hain't do heem no harm,hein? Den he fire hees gun,—poom!—an' more as twenty—prob'ly ten shot-buck heet me on the head of it!"
Buckshot! "Them's the marble," thought Mr. Peaslee, "but there wasn't but one!"
"Ah tol' you dey steeng lak bumbletybees. Ah t'ink me, dat weeked leetly boy goin' for shoot more as once prob'ly—mebbe two, t'ree tam. Ah drop queek in de grass, an' Ah run—run queek! An' when Ah get home, Ah find two, t'ree, five, mebbefour hole in mah arm more beeg as mah t'umb."
Pete stopped dramatically; his little sparkling black eyes traveled quickly from one face to another to note the effect he had made. Mr. Peaslee's spirits were rising; the grand jury could not believe such a "passel of lies"—only, only was one of those holes "beeg as mah t'umb" made, perchance, by a marble?
"That's a mighty moving narrative," commented Sampson, dryly. "Did I understand you to say that you were hit in the head or the arm?"
"Bose of it," averred Pete, without winking.
"I didn't shoot any bag of marbles," whispered Mr. Peaslee to his neighbor, who nodded. That he had the courage to address a remark to any one shows how his spirits were rising.
"You said you were going along the short cut through Mr. Edwards's orchard, didn't you?" the state's attorney now asked.
"Yes, seh," said Pete.
Paige stepped to a big blackboard, which he had had set up at the end of the room, and rapidly sketched a plan of the Edwards' lot, with the aidof a memorandum of measurements which he had secured. A line across the upper left-hand corner represented the path commonly used by the neighbors in going through the Edwards's orchard.
"Now, Mr. Lamoury," resumed Paige, "I don't quite understand how, if you were on the path there, you could have seen young Edwards, or he you. The barn seems to be in the way until just at the right-hand end, and when you get to that, you'd have to look through about ten rows of apple-trees. Now weren't you a little off the line?"
"Dame!" exclaimed Pete, ingenuously. "Ah'll was got for be, since Ah was shoot, ain't it? Ah'll can't remembler."
"Mr. Edwards told us," continued Paige, while Solomon's heart warmed to him, "that he saw you fall out of some bushes. Now these are the only bushes there are," and he rapidly indicated on the board the rows of currant bushes, the asparagus, the sunflowers, and the lilacs which lined the garden on its right-hand corner. "That's a good way from the path."
"Ah'll be there, me!" cried Pete, in indignant alarm. "No, seh! M'sieu' Edwards say dat? Respectable mans lak M'sieu' Edwards! It was shame for lie so. No, seh! Ah go home t'rough de horchard. Mebbe Ah'll go leetly ways off de path of it,—mebbe for peek up apple off'n de groun' what no one ain't want for rot of it,—Ah'll don't remembler. But I ain't go for hide in de bush! Ah'll be honest mans, me. Ah'll go for walk where all mans can see, ain't it? What Ah'll go hide for, me?"
Paige drew a square on Mr. Peaslee's side of the fence, directly opposite the bushes.
"That," said he, "is Mr. Peaslee's hen-house," and he brushedthe chalk from his fingers with an air of indifference.
"So-o?" cried Pete, with an air of pleased surprise. "M'sieu' Peaslee he'll got hen-rouse? First tam Ah'll was heard of it, me. Fine t'ing for have hen-rouse, fine t'ing for M'sieu' Peaslee. Ah'll t'ink heem for be lucky, M'sieu' Peaslee. But Ah'll ain't know it. Ah'll ain't see nossin' of it, no, seh!" and Pete smiled innocently round at the enigmatic faces of the jurymen.
"Mr. Lamoury," said Paige, with a very casual air, "behind those bushes is a broken board."
"So-o?" said Pete.
"Any one who was there had an excellent chance to study the fastenings of Mr. Peaslee's hen-house door."
"Mais, Ah'll was tol' you Ah'll not be dere, me!" cried Pete, alarmed and excited.
"That," said Mr. Paige, calmly, "is the only place where you could be and get shot from the boy's window. Either you were there or you weren't shot. Besides, Mr. Edwards found your foot-prints."
Pete shrunk his head into his shoulders and glared questioningly at the state's attorney. The examination was not going to his liking.
"What Ah'll care for dat?" he said at last.
"Oh, nothing," said Paige, "nothing at all. Let us talk of something else. Let me ask why Mr. Edwards discharged you from his employ last spring?"
"Nossing! Nossing! Ah'll be work for heem more good as never was."
"If he treated you as unjustly as that," said Paige, with sympathy, "you cannot have a very high opinion of Mr. Edwards."
"Ah'll tol' you he was bad mans. He'll discharge me more as seexty mile off. Ah'll have for walk, me.Ah'll tol' you dat was mean treek for play on poor mans."
And Pete sought sympathy from the faces about him.
"That was too bad, certainly," said Paige. "Now about those wounds of yours. I have Doctor Brigham here, ready to make an examination. I'll call him now," and the state's attorney started toward the door of the witness-room.
Pete jumped.
"Hein!" he exclaimed.
"You don't object to having an excellent doctor like Doctor Brigham look at your wounds, do you?" asked Paige.
Now Lamoury had no wounds to show. The smiling, well-dressed Paige, standing there and looking at him with amused comprehension, was more than he could bear. Pete suddenly lost his temper, never too secure. Out of his wheeled chair he jumped, and shaking his fist in Paige's face, he shouted:—
"T'ink you be smart, very smart mans! Well, Ah'll tol' you you ain't. Ah'll tol' you you be a great beeg peeg! Ah'll tol' you dat Edwards boy, he shoot at me. I see heem. 'T ain't my fault of it if he not hit me,hein? You be peeg! You be all peegs—every one!" andPete, making a wide, inclusive gesture, shouted, "I care not more as one cent for de whole keet and caboodle of it! Peeg, peeg, peeg!"
And turning on his heel, the wrathful Frenchman left the room. He left also a convulsed jury and a wheeled chair, for the hire of which Hibbard found himself later obliged to pay.
Mr. Peaslee, the thermometer of whose spirits had been rising steadily, joined in the laughter which followed the exit of the discomfited Pete.
"Terrible smart feller, Paige, ain't he?" said he to Albion Small. "Did him up real slick, didn't he?" Thedelighted Solomon had quite forgotten his dislike for the citified Paige.
Of course the grand jury promptly abandoned the inquiry. The fact was now obvious that the vengeful Lamoury, aided by the unscrupulous Hibbard, had merely hoped to be bought off by Mr. Edwards, and had been disappointed.
"The case," said Paige, "would never have come to trial. If Edwards had persisted, and let his boy go to court, they'd have had to stop. They must have been a good deal disappointed when he refused bail; they probably thought he'd neverlet the boy pass a night in Hotel Calkins."
Mr. Peaslee walked home sobered but relieved. The loss of public esteem which had come to him through his foolish adventure, the serious wrong which he had inflicted upon Jim Edwards, the disgust of his wife were all things to chasten a man's spirit; but on the other hand, Jim was now out of jail, Lamoury had not been hurt in the least, and he himself had not been complained of or arrested. If he should have to endure some chaffing from Jim Bartlett and Si Spooner, his cronies at the bank,he "guessed he could stand it." On the whole, he was moderately happy.
The sun was low in the west, and the trees were casting long shadows across his yard, brightly spattered with the red and yellow of autumnal leaves. His house, white and neat and comfortable, seemed basking like some still, somnolent animal in the warm sunshine.
Solomon turned, and cast his eye down the road and over the Random River, flowing smooth and peaceful through its great ox-bow. He recognized Dannie Snow, scuffling through the dust with his bare feet, as he drove home his father's great,placid, full-uddered cow. The comfort of the scene, the cosy pleasantness of the place among the close-coming hills, struck him, in his relieved mood, as it had never done before. Even though disappointed in political ambition, a man might live there in some content.
After all, he had thirty thousand dollars, and it had been calmly drawing interest through all his tribulations.
Consoled by this reflection, he walked to the rear of his house and began pottering about the chicken yard. Then in the Edwards garden appeared Jim. Solomon gave a slightstart, and took a hesitating step or two, as if minded to flee, but restrained by shame. He watched the boy come to the fence, and climb upon it. He said nothing; he could not think of anything to say.
"That harmonica was fine!" said Jim, grinning amiably.
Mr. Peaslee was immensely relieved. If there was a momentary twinge at the thought of the money it had cost him, it was quickly gone.
"Glad ye enjoyed it. Seem 's though I wanted to give ye a little suthin'—considerin'. I hope you and your father ain't ones to lay it up agin me."
"That's all right," said Jim, grandly. "I had a bully time at the jail. Mrs. Calkins is a splendid woman. You just ought to eat one of her doughnuts!"
"Didn't know they fed ye up much to the jail," commented Solomon, puzzled.
"Oh, I wasn't locked up," said Jim, and explained.
"Well, well, I'm beat! That was clever on 'em, wa'n't it now?" said Mr. Peaslee, much pleased.
"And father ain't holding any grudge, either," said Jim. "He says he's much obliged to you"—a remark which the reader will understand better than Mr. Peaslee ever did.
"You listen when you're eating your supper!" cried Jim, as he climbed down from the fence and ran toward the house. "I'm going to play on that harmonica!"
And Solomon rejoiced. Poor man, he did not know how the popularity of his gift was destined to endure; he did not know that he had let loose upon the circumambient air sounds worse than any ever emitted by the Calico Cat.
Filled with the pleasant sense of having "made it up" with the boy whom he thought he had so greatlyinjured, Solomon started along the path toward the kitchen door. He began to realize that he had an appetite—something now long unfamiliar to him. As he drew near, an appetizing odor smote his nostrils.
"Eyesters, I swanny!" he ejaculated.
It was unheard of! There was nothing which Solomon, who had a keen relish for good things to eat, and would even have been extravagant in this one particular had his firm-willed wife permitted, enjoyed more than an oyster stew, or which he had a chance to taste less often. Oysters could be had in town forsixty cents a quart, a sum that seems not large; but in Mrs. Peaslee's mind they were associated with the elegance and luxury of church "sociables," and with the dissipation of supper after country dances. They were extravagant food. Solomon could not believe his nose.
He entered the door, and there upon the table stood the big tureen, with two soup plates at Mrs. Peaslee's place. There was nothing else but the stew, of course, but it lent a gala air to the whole kitchen.
"Why, Sarepty, Sarepty!" he said to his wife.
"You goin' to be arrested?" askedMrs. Peaslee, sharply. She wanted no sentiment over her unwonted generosity; but, truth to tell, when she had seen Solomon depart that morning, and realized that he might be going to arrest, possibly to trial, perhaps to conviction and to jail, she had felt a sudden fright, a sudden sympathy for her husband, and she had bought half a pint of oysters for a stew—in spite of expense.
"No, I ain't going to be arrested," said Solomon, with satisfaction. "The grand jury found there wa'n't anythin' to it; but—but, Sarepty—"
He paused helplessly, unable toexpress his complex feelings about the stew, and the attitude on the part of his wife which it revealed.
"Oh, well," said his wife, "after all, 't ain't 's if you'd gone and lost money."
And after supper Mr. Peaslee carefully poured some skimmed milk into a saucer and went out to the barn.
"Kitty, kitty!" he called. "Kitty, come, kitty!"
The Calico Cat did not respond. But in the morning the saucer was empty.