CHAPTER XIXOF DUELS AND CONSCIENCE
The club received such report as Sam felt free to make of his investigation with interest rather than with regret for its share in the misfortunes of Tom Orkney.
If Sam had told the whole story, including the affair in Marlow woods and Lon’s suspicions of Peter Groche, the crowd, doubtless, would have buzzed with excitement, and, incidentally, felt some sympathy for Orkney; but, given merely new light on the matter of the cap and a revised version of the incident at the pond, the boys, as a rule, fell back upon the declaration that Tom was a “grouch,” anyway, and declined to take to themselves any especial culpability. Somebody had committed the depredations at the Parker place; somebody had smashed the club-house window. Maybe Orkney hadn’t done these things, but wasn’t he a chronic sorehead? Of course, it was hard luck for him to be deemed LittlePerrine’s persecutor instead of protector, but the misunderstanding was general and not the particular error of the Safety First Club.
Even the Shark, who might have spoken from the text of “I told you so,” let the opportunity pass. His calculations of the flight of the boulder had started him upon an agreeable inquiry into the subject of projectiles, and, as Poke declared, he was as far in the clouds as if he had been sent there by one of the big mortars about which he was reading.
In the club’s opinion that there was nothing to be done, Sam was in a way to coincide, though he would have phrased it that nothing could be done at present. Yet something should be done. This was clear in his mind, though he seemed to be unable to hit upon a practical suggestion.
No news came of the missing Orkney.
Lon Gates, playing detective at every opportunity, confessed that he found nothing either to shake or to confirm his theory of the guilt of Peter Groche. The man, after hanging about town as usual, had dropped out of sight, leaving no word of the destination for which he was bound.
Then came Christmas and a fortnight’s vacation, and Sam shared cheerfully in the festivities of the season. He was in excellent health; he liked fun; he indulged vigorously in winter sports; his appetite remained admirable. But, for all that, there was a change in the boy, quite unobserved by his father, who was held by business cares; vaguely felt by his friends, and distinctly marked by his mother. Mrs. Parker took occasion to have several long talks with her son. She was sure that he had something on his mind, but all her tact did not lead him to confidences. Sam understood her solicitude, and was grateful, if reticent. A fellow who was trying to prove his self-reliance, he reasoned, must work out his problems for himself. Not that he would have declined counsel from older heads—probably he would have welcomed a chance to accept his father’s advice, the affair appearing to him to be peculiarly one for masculine consideration; but he would not seek it.
Mr. Parker, as has been related, was very busy. For one thing, he was arranging a trip into the woods with a capitalist from New York, and plans for the expedition took upmuch of his time. For another, his method of dealing with Sam on probation was to interfere as little as possible with the boy’s affairs. Sam’s school reports were good; he seemed to be avoiding scrapes; he had distinguished himself in the rescue of Tom Orkney and Little Perrine. On the whole, the father was well pleased with the situation as he observed it.
Sam himself was not pleased. It is not good to have a sense of uncertainty, and of baffled intentions to do right. On the one hand was his remembrance of his precautions in trying to follow out his motto of “Safety First”; on the other, an uneasy conviction that Tom Orkney had suffered unjustly. Sometimes one seemed to outweigh the other; again he vacillated miserably between the two opinions. And one day, not long after Christmas, when his doubts were assailing him sorely, he recalled the Major’s invitation, and sought diversion in a visit to the veteran.
The Major received him with marked favor, cracked a joke or two about his big game record, and began to make the round of what was really a fine collection of arms. Therewere flint-lock muskets and fowling-pieces; muzzle-loading and breech-loading rifles; cutlasses, sabers and bayonets; huge, old-fashioned horse pistols, revolvers and even a modern, compact, automatic weapon. Of these the Major spoke briefly; but he lingered longer over a case in which lay a brace of pistols, very old in pattern, but of exquisite workmanship.
“I wonder, Sam,” he said, “if you ever have seen such fellows as these? What do you think they are?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, sir,” Sam answered.
“Well, what do you imagine they were used for?”
“I haven’t a notion.”
The Major wagged his head. “My boy, it’s a testimonial to the progress of the world that you haven’t a notion. Time was, I’m sorry to say, when a fine, upstanding lad like you would have known only too well what these were and how they were used. These are dueling pistols, sir!”
“Oh!” cried Sam, and bent over the case with increased interest. “And—and were they ever—ever——”
“They were,” said the Major drily. “Oh, yes—more than once. Genuine article, I do assure you! But that sort of thing is over and done with, fortunately.”
Sam straightened his back. “I’ve read about duels, of course. And some of the books speak as if there must have been lots of them.”
“Too many!” snorted the Major. “That’s perfectly true, sir. Principle was all wrong, but it took centuries to make the discovery. Honest men, honorable men mistakenly believed that the way to do justice and to accept justice was by killing each other or standing up to be killed. All wrong; all wrong, sir! The law is the law, and to it we must look for redress for injuries.”
“Yes, sir,” said Sam, a deal impressed by this testimony from one commonly reputed to be a stubborn and unyielding antagonist. “Only—only”—a curious thought had thrust itself upon him—“only, can you always be sure of what the law is? I mean, that is, can you always be sure of what you ought to do?”
“Eh?” The bushy eyebrows came together as if the Major were perplexed by the question.
“Can you always find a law—or a rule—that applies?”
“Well, a law is general in its terms, of course. And you’ve some special instance in mind, haven’t you?”
Sam hesitated. “I—I—well, I’m thinking of a case in which a fellow acted on what he thought was full justification, and found, afterward, that—well, that there had been a lot of mistakes.”
“Honest mistakes?”
“Yes, sir. Only——”
“Pardon me!” the Major interrupted. “Let me cite a case. Once a friend of mine, who had to carry a great deal of money, was set upon by masked and armed men. In what he fully believed was self-defense he shot and killed one of them. It proved that the attack was the work of rash practical jokers. My friend was acquitted, justly. Now, was his case like that which you are considering?”
Again Sam hesitated. “Yes—and no, sir. My case isn’t quite so clear.”
“Little prejudice to begin with—biased judgment?” queried the Major keenly.
“That’s the trouble, sir,” said Sam frankly.“The evidence looked all right, but how can I be certain that it ought to have seemed so?”
“Difficult!” said the Major tersely.
“Well, sir, what would you do if you were in my—if you were in the fix?”
The Major put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “My boy,” he said very gravely, “you’re dealing with a problem which neither I nor anybody else can solve for you. It is a problem to be settled by law, but the law is that of your own conscience. Now, I submit, the court of conscience is supplemental to the courts of the land, but it is severer in its judgments. The other courts may give you the benefit of a doubt, but hardly the court of conscience. And if there were prejudice——” There he checked himself. “No; I’ll say no more; for I’ve no right to seek to influence you unduly. You must reach your own decision for yourself.”
“I understand, sir,” said Sam, with a gravity matching the Major’s.
The pressure on his shoulder increased. “If I’m a judge of human nature, young man,” the Major declared, “youwillsettle this thing for yourself, and you’ll settle it right!”