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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20010-8.txt b/20010-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f3cbf3b --- /dev/null +++ b/20010-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3227 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Calico Cat, by Charles Miner Thompson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Calico Cat + +Author: Charles Miner Thompson + +Illustrator: F. R. Gruger + +Release Date: December 3, 2006 [EBook #20010] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CALICO CAT *** + + + + +Produced by Jacqueline Jeremy, David Edwards and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + +THE CALICO CAT + +BY + +CHARLES MINER THOMPSON + + +WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY + +F. R. GRUGER + + +[Illustration: Logo] + + +BOSTON AND NEW YORK +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY +The Riverside Press Cambridge +1908 + + +COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY CHARLES MINER THOMPSON +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + +_Published October, 1908_ + +SECOND IMPRESSION + + + + +TO MY WIFE + + + + +NOTE + + +I have to make these acknowledgments: to Mr. Ira Rich Kent for many +a helpful suggestion in the framing of the story; to the publishers +of "The Youth's Companion," in which the tale first appeared, for +permitting the use of Mr. Gruger's admirable illustrations, and to +Mr. Francis W. Hight for the very pleasant cat which he has drawn +for the cover. + +THE AUTHOR + + + + +[Illustration: Cat dozing upon the top of the fence.] + +THE CALICO CAT + +I + + +Mr. Peaslee looked more complacent than ever. It was Saturday noon, +and Solomon had just returned from his usual morning sojourn +"up-street." He had taken off his coat, and was washing his face at +the sink, while his wife was "dishing up" the midday meal. There was +salt codfish, soaked fresh, and stewed in milk--"picked up," as the +phrase goes; there were baked potatoes and a thin, pale-looking pie. +Mrs. Peaslee did not believe in pampering the flesh, and she did +believe in saving every possible cent. + +"Well," said Mr. Peaslee, as they sat down to this feast, "I guess +I've got news for ye." + +His wife gazed at him with interest. + +"Are ye drawed?" she asked. + +"Got the notice from Whitcomb right in my pocket. Grand juror. +September term. 'T ain't more'n a week off." + +The _staccato_ utterance was caused by the big mouthfuls of codfish +and potato which, between phrases, Mr. Peaslee conveyed to his +mouth. It was plain to see that he was greatly pleased with his new +dignity. + +"What do they give ye for it?" asked his wife. Solomon should accept +no office which did not bring profit. + +"Two dollars a day and mileage," said Mr. Peaslee, with the emphasis +of one who knows he will make a sensation. + +"Mileage? What's that?" + +"Travelin' expenses. State allows ye so much a mile. I get eight +cents for goin' to the courthouse." + +"Ye get eight cents every day?" asked his wife, her eyes snapping. +She was vague about the duties of a grand juror; maybe he had to +earn his two dollars; but she had exact ideas about the trouble of +walking "up-street." To get eight cents for that was being paid for +doing nothing at all, and she was much astonished at the idea. + +"Likely now, ain't it?" said Mr. Peaslee, with masculine scorn. +"State don't waste money that way! Mileage's to get ye there an' +take ye home again when term's over. You're s'posed to stay round +'tween whiles." + +"Humph!" said his wife, disappointed. "They give ye two dollars a +day"--she hazarded the shot--"just for settin' round and talkin', +don't they? Walkin's considerable more of an effort for most folks." + +"'Settin' round an' talkin'!'" exclaimed Mr. Peaslee, so indignantly +that he stopped eating for a moment, knife and fork upright in his +rigid, scandalized hands, while he gazed at his thin, energetic, +shrewish little wife. "'Settin' round and talkin'!' It's mighty +important work, now I tell ye. I guess there wouldn't be much law +and order if it wa'n't for the grand jury. They don't take none but +men o' jedgment. Takes gumption, I tell ye. Ye have to pay money to +get that kind." + +"Well," said his wife, with the air of one who concedes an +unimportant point, "anyhow, it's good pay for a man whose time ain't +worth anythin'." + +"Ain't worth anythin'!" exclaimed Mr. Peaslee, in hurt tones. "Now, +Sarepty, ye know better'n that. I don't know how they'll get along +without me up to the bank. They've got a pretty good idee o' my +jedgment 'bout mortgages. They don't pass any without my say so." + +Mrs. Peaslee sniffed. "I've seen ye in the bank window, settin' +round with Jim Bartlett and Si Spooner and the rest of 'em. Readin' +the paper--that's all _I_ ever see ye doin'. Must be wearin' on ye." + +"Guess ye never heard what was said, did ye? Can't hear 'em +thinkin', I guess. They're mighty shreüd up to the bank, mighty +shreüd." + +They had finished their codfish and potato, and Mrs. Peaslee, +without giving much attention to her husband's testimony to the +business acumen of his banking friends and incidentally of himself, +pulled the pale, thin pie toward her and cut it. + +"Pass up your plate," said she. + +When his plate was again in place before him, Mr. Peaslee inserted +the edge of his knife under the upper crust and raised it so that he +could get a better view of its contents; he had his suspicions of +that pie. What he saw confirmed them; between the crusts was a thin, +soft layer of some brown stuff, interspersed with spots of red. + +"Them's the currants we had for supper the night before last, and +that's the dried-apple sauce we had for supper last night," he +announced accurately. "An' ye know how I like a proper pie." + +"I ain't goin' to waste good victuals," said his wife, with +decision. + +There was silence for a moment; Solomon did not dare make any +further protest. + +"I suppose," his wife said, picking up again the thread of her +thoughts, "ye'll have to wear your go-to-meetin' suit all the time +to the grand jury. I expect they'll be all wore out at the end. +That'll take off something. You be careful, now. Settin' round's +awful wearin' on pants. You get a chair with a cushion. And don't ye +go treatin' cigars. And don't ye go to the hotel for your victuals. +I ain't goin' to have ye spendin' your money when ye can just as +well come home. Where ye goin' now?" + +Mr. Peaslee was putting on his coat. "Well," he said, "I kind o' +thought I'd step over to Ed'ards's. I thought mebbe he'd be +interested." + +"Goin' to brag, are ye?" was his wife's remorseless comment. "Much +good it'll do ye, talkin' to that hatchet-face. He ain't so pious as +he looks, if all stories are true." + +But Mr. Peaslee was already outside the door. She raised her voice +shrilly. "You be back, now; them chickens has got to be fed!" + +Mr. Peaslee sought a more sympathetic audience. Being drawn for the +grand jury had greatly flattered his vanity, for it encouraged a +secret ambition which he had long held to get into public life. +Service on the grand jury might lead to his becoming selectman, +perhaps justice of the peace, perhaps town representative from +Ellmington--who knew what else? He looked down a pleasant vista of +increasing office, at the end of which stood the state capitol. He +could be senator, perhaps! And he began planning his behavior as +juror, the dignified bearing, the well-matured utterances, the +shrewd cross-questioning. At the end of his service his neighbors +would know him for a man of solid judgment, a "safe" man to be +intrusted with weighty affairs. + +Mr. Peaslee was fifty-three years old. He had a comfortable figure, +a clean-shaven, round face, and blue eyes much exaggerated for the +spectator by the strong lenses of a pair of great spectacles. These, +with his gray hair, gave him a benevolence of aspect which somewhat +misrepresented him. As a matter of fact, although good-humored and +not without a still surviving capacity for generous impulse, he was +only less "near" than his wife. Childishly vain, he bore himself +with an air of self-satisfaction not without its charm for humorous +neighbors. They said that they guessed he thought himself "some +punkins." + +"Some punkins" most people admitted him to be, although how much of +his money and how much of his shrewdness was really his wife's was +matter of debate among those who knew him best. At any rate, the +Peaslees had made money. A few years before, they had sold their +fat farm "down-river" advantageously, and had bought the dignified +white house in Ellmington in which they have just been seen eating a +dinner which looks as if they were "house poor." That they were not; +they had thirty thousand dollars in the local bank, partly invested +in its stock. In Ellmington Mrs. Peaslee was less lonely, and +through Mr. Peaslee was an unsuspected director in the bank, and a +shrewd user of the chances for profitable investment which her +husband's association with the "bank crowd" opened to her. + +As for Mr. Peaslee, he did not know that he himself was not the +business head of the house; and his garden, his chickens, and his +pleasant loafing in the bank window kept him contentedly occupied. +For, in spite of her shrewish tongue, Mrs. Peaslee had tact enough +to let her husband have the credit for her business acumen. "I ain't +goin' to let on," she said to herself, "that he ain't just as good +as the rest of 'em." She had her pride. + +As Mr. Peaslee stepped along the straight walk which divided his +neat lawn, and opened the neat gate in his neat white fence, he met +Sam Barton, the broad-shouldered, good-humored giant who was +constable of Ellmington. Sam gave him a smiling "How are ye, +squire?" as he passed. + +"Guess he's heard," said Mr. Peaslee to himself, much pleased. Yet, +as a matter of fact, the greeting was not different from that which +Sam had given him daily for the past three years. + +Once on the sidewalk, Mr. Peaslee turned to the right toward the +house of his neighbor, Mr. Edwards. Edwards was a younger man than +Peaslee, perhaps forty-seven. His business was speculating in +lumber and cattle, and in the interest of this he was constantly +passing and re passing the Canadian border, which was not far from +Ellmington. In the intervals between his trips he was much at home. +He was a stern, silent, secretive man, and simply because he was so +close-mouthed there was much guessing and gossip, not wholly kind, +about his affairs. + +Mr. Peaslee found the front door of the Edwards house standing open +in the trustful village fashion, and, with neighborly freedom, +walked in without ringing. He turned first into the sitting-room, +where he found no one, and then into a rear room opening from it. +This obviously was a boy's "den." On the table in the centre were a +checkerboard, some loose string, a handful of spruce gum, some +scattered marbles, a broken jack-knife, a cap, a shot-pouch, an old +bird's nest, a powder-flask, a dog-eared copy of "Cæsar's +Commentaries," open, and a Latin dictionary, also open. In a corner +stood a fishing-rod in its cotton case; along the wall were ranged +bait-boxes, a fishing-basket, a pair of rubber boots, and a huge +wasp's nest. Leaning against the sill of the open window was a +double-barreled shotgun, and on the sill itself were some black, +greasy rags and a small bottle of oil. + +Various truths might be inferred from the disarray. One was that Mr. +Edwards was generous to his son Jim, and another was that there was +no Mrs. Edwards. Further, it might be easily enough guessed that Jim +had been lured from the study of Latin, in which pretty Miss Ware, +who was his teacher at the "Union" school, was trying to interest +him, by the attractive idea of oiling his gun-barrels, and that +something still more attractive--perhaps a boy with crossed fingers, +for it was not too late for swimming--had lured him from that. At +any rate, Jim was not there. + +Mr. Peaslee, still bent on finding Mr. Edwards, moved toward the +open window. But he could see no signs of life anywhere. None of the +household was, however, far away. Jim was in the loft of the barn, +where he was carefully examining a barrel of early apples with a +view to filling his pockets with the best; the housekeeper had +merely stepped across the street to borrow some yeast, and Mr. +Edwards, who had a headache, was lying down in the chamber +immediately above Jim's den. + +Mr. Peaslee stood and gazed. He eyed in turn the kitchen ell, the +shed, and the barn, and then gazed out over the "posy" garden, where +still bloomed a few late flowers, of which he recognized only the +"chiny" asters. He looked toward what he himself would have called +the "sarce" garden, with its cabbages, turnips, rustling +corn-stalks, and drying tomato-vines. Seeing no one there, he sent +his gaze to the distant rows of apple trees, bright with ripening +fruit. Disappointed, he was about to turn away, but he could not +resist taking a complacent, sweeping view of his own adjoining +possessions. + +There, on the right, ran the long line of his own dwelling, +continued by the five-foot board fence separating his garden from +Mr. Edwards's. This stood up gauntly white until near the orchard, +where it was completely hidden by the high, feathery stalks of the +asparagus-bed, by a row of great sunflowers, now heavy and bent with +their disk-like seed-pods, and by a clump of lilac bushes. As his +eye traveled along the white expanse, he gave a quick start, and his +face clouded with vexation. + +There in the sun, prone upon the top of the fence, dozed the bane of +his life--_the Calico Cat_. + +Her coat was made up of patches of yellow and white, varied with +a black stocking on her right hind leg, and a large, round, black +spot about her right eye, which gave her a peculiarly predatory and +disreputable appearance. Solomon had disliked her at sight. Ever +since he had bought the house in Ellmington he had been trying to +drive her from the premises, but stay away she would not. Not all +the missiles in existence could convince her that his house was not +a desirable place of abode. And she was a constant vexation and +annoyance. + +She jumped from the fence plump into the middle of newly planted +flower-beds; she filled the haymow with kittens; she asked all her +friends to the barn, where she gave elaborate musical parties at +hours more fashionably late than were tolerated in Ellmington. +Whenever she had indigestion she ate off the tops of the choicest +green things that grew in the garden; but when her appetite was good +she caught and devoured his young chickens. + +Moreover, when at bay she frightened him. Once he had cornered the +spitting creature in a stall. Claws out, tail big, fur all on end, +she had leaped straight at his head, which he ducked, and, landing +squarely upon it, had steadied herself there for a moment with +sharp, protruding claws; thence she had jumped to a feed-box, thence +to a beam, thence to the mow, from the dusky recesses of which she +had glared at him with big, green, menacing eyes. Not since that +experience, which, in spite of his soft hat, had left certain marks +upon his scalp, had he ever attempted to catch her. Instead, he had +borrowed a gun, and a dozen times had fired at her; but although he +counted himself a fair shot, he had never made even a scant bit of +fur fly from her disreputable back. + +And now he knew she laughed at him. Yes, laughed at him, for she had +more than human intelligence. There was something demoniac in her +cleverness, her immunity from harm, her prodigious energy, her +malevolent mischief, her raillery. Actually, he had grown morbid +about the beast; he had a superstitious feeling that in the end she +would bring him bad luck. How he hated her! + +There she lay, with eyes shut, unsuspecting, comfortable, and +basked in the warm September sunshine. Here at his hand was a +double-barreled shotgun. The chance was too good. This vagrant, +this outlaw, this trespasser, this thief--he catalogued her +misdeeds in his mind as he clanged the ramrod down the barrels +to see if the piece was loaded. + +It was not. But ammunition was at hand. He put in a generous charge +from Jim's powder-flask and rammed it home with a paper wad. He +grabbed up the shot-pouch and released the proper charge into his +hand. He was disappointed; it was bird shot. Scattering as it would +scatter, it could do _that_ cat no harm. Nevertheless, he poured the +pellets into the barrel. As he rammed home the paper wad on top of +these, his eye caught the marbles lying on the table. He took one +that fitted, and rammed that home also--for luck. He placed a cap, +lifted the gun to his shoulder, and fired. + +With a leap which sent her six feet into the air the Calico Cat +landed four-square in Mr. Peaslee's chicken-yard, almost on the back +of the dignified rooster, which fled with a startled squawk. She +dodged like lightning across the chicken-yard, between cackling and +clattering hens, went up the wire-netting walls, leaped to the roof, +paused, considered, began to reflect that she had been shot at +before and to wonder at her own fright, stopped, and, sitting down +on the ridgepole, looked inquiringly in Mr. Peaslee's direction. She +was, of course, entirely unharmed. + +But other matters were claiming Mr. Peaslee's attention. Out +from behind the screen formed by the asparagus plumes, the +currant-bushes, the sunflowers, and the lilacs, all of which +grew not so far from the spot on the fence where the Calico +Cat had been sitting, fell a man! + +Solomon had a mere glimpse. Standing behind taller bushes, the +stranger had fallen behind lower ones, and only while his falling +figure was describing the narrow segment of a circle had he been +visible. + +But the glimpse was enough. Mr. Peaslee's jaw dropped, his face +turned white. But the next moment he gave a great sigh of relief. He +saw the man rise and slip into cover of the bushes, and so disappear +through the orchard. He had not, then, killed the fellow! + +Relieved of that fear, he thought of himself. What would people say +were he charged with firing at a man--he, a respectable citizen, a +director in the bank, a grand juror? They must not know! + +He silently laid the gun back against the window-sill, turned with +infinite care, and tiptoed quickly back into the sitting-room, into +the hall, into the street. + +Not a soul was visible. Nevertheless, such was Mr. Peaslee's +agitation, so strongly did he feel the need of silence, that, +placing a shaking hand upon the fence to steady himself, he tiptoed +along the sidewalk all the way to his own house. There the fear of +his wife struck him. He was in no condition to meet that sharp-eyed, +quick-tongued lady! + +He softly entered the front door and penetrated to the dark parlor, +where, as no one would ever enter it except for a funeral or a +wedding, he felt safe from intrusion. There he sank down upon the +slippery horsehair lounge, and, staring helplessly at the severe +portrait of Mrs. Peaslee, done by a lugubrious artist in crayon, +wiped the sweat from his forehead and tried to collect his scattered +faculties. + +"Whew!" he breathed. "Whew!" + + + + +[Illustration: Cat licking paw.] + +II + + +Meanwhile, at the Edwards house, life had grown suddenly +interesting. + +When the report of the gun reached Jim, he had stopped pawing over +the apple barrel, and was sitting on the upper step of the staircase +at the extreme end of the loft, slowly munching an apple and +thinking. + +Jim was a healthy, active boy, with no more sense than naturally +belongs to a boy of fifteen, and with a lively imagination, which +had been most unfortunately overstimulated. Without a mother, and +with a father who paid him scant attention, he read whatever he +liked, and as a result, his head was full of romantic road-agents +delightfully kind to little crippled daughters at home, fierce +pirates who supported aged and respectable mothers, and considerate +bandits who restored valuable watches when told that they were +prized on account of tender associations. + +His imagination had been still further fed by certain local legends +and happenings, highly colored enough to excite the keenest +interest. Ellmington is, as has been said, near the Canadian border. +The place abounds in tales of smuggling, and the popular gossip, as +gossip everywhere has a pleasing way of doing, associates the names +of the most respectable and unlikely people with the disreputable +ventures of the smugglers. + +Of course a story of contraband trade is the more striking if the +narrator can hint that the judge of probate or the most stern of +village deacons might tell a good deal if he were disposed, and +there are always persons ready to give this sort of interest to +their "yarns." + +In Ellmington lived Jake Farnum, an ex-deputy marshal and an +incorrigible liar, about whom gathered the boys, Jim among them, to +hear exciting stories of chase and detection, exactly as boys in a +seaport town gather about an old sailor to hear tales of pirates and +buccaneers. And Jake loved to hint darkly that the best people +shared in the illicit traffic. + +With it all, Jim's sense of right and wrong was in a fair way to +become hopelessly "mixed." Exactly as boys at the seashore are prone +to believe that a pirate is, on the whole, an admirable character, +so these border boys, and especially Jim, had come to feel--only +with more excuse, because of the generally indulgent view of the +community--that smuggling is an occupation in which any one may +engage with credit, and which is much more interesting than most. + +Now it is not likely that Jim's father, a stern, secretive, +obviously prosperous man, with an intermittent business which +took him back and forth across the border, could in all this +gossip escape a touch of suspicion. No one, of course, denied +that he really did deal in lumber and cattle; the fact was +obvious. But there were hints and whispers, shrewd shakings +of the head, and more than one "guessed" that all Edwards's +profits "didn't come from cattle, no, nor lumber, neither." + +Latterly these whispers had become more definite. Pete Lamoury, +a French-Canadian, whom Mr. Edwards had hired as a drover, and +abruptly discharged, was spreading stories about his former +employer which made Blackbeard, the pirate, seem like a babe by +comparison. Pete was not a very credible witness; but still, +building upon a suspicion that already existed, he succeeded in +adding something to its substantiality. + +These stories had come to Jim's ears, and Jim was delighted. The +consideration that, were the stories true, his father was a criminal +did not occur to him at all. Like the foolish, romantic boy he was, +he was simply pleased to think of his father as a man of iron +determination, cool wit, unshakable courage, whom no deputy sheriff +could over-match, and who was leading a life full of excitement and +danger--the smuggler king! The only thing that Jim regretted was +that his father did not let him share in these exploits. He knew he +could be useful! But his father's manner was habitually so +forbidding that Jim did not dare hint a knowledge of these probable +undertakings, much less any desire to share them. + +Poor Mr. Edwards! He loved his boy, but did not in the least know +how to show it. Silent, with a sternness of demeanor which he was +unable wholly to lay aside even in his friendliest moments, much +away from home, and unable to meet the boy on his own level when he +was there, deprived of the wife who might have been his interpreter, +he had no way of becoming acquainted with his son. Anxious in some +way to share in Jim's life, he took the clumsy and mistaken method +of letting him have too much pocket-money. + +Yet if Jim, thus unguided and overindulged, had gone astray in his +conduct, Mr. Edwards was not the man to know his mistake and take +the blame. He had in him a rigidity of moral judgment, a dryness of +mind which made it certain that if Jim did do what he disapproved, +he would visit upon him a punishment at once severe and +unsympathetic. The man's air of cold strength excited in the son +fear as well as admiration; his reserve kept his naturally +affectionate boy at more than arm's length. Poor Mr. Edwards! Poor +Jim! Misunderstanding between them was as sure to occur as the rise +of to-morrow's sun. + +Pat on Jim's speculations about his father's stirring deeds, the +gunshot came echoing through the silent barn. Jim ran to the loft +door and looked out. He saw smoke curling up from the window of his +"den," and knew that it was his own gun that had been fired. Back in +the room, a vague masculine figure moved hastily out of the door. +Jim looked toward the orchard, and caught sight of another man +disappearing in the trees. He was wild with excitement. As he knew +that his father was the only person in the house, he was sure that +his father had fired the shot. + +The tales that he had heard, his belief in his father's life of +adventure, made him conclude that here was some smuggler's quarrel. +So vividly did the notion take possession of his inflamed +imagination that nothing henceforth could shake it. He simply +_knew_ what had happened. + +And his father had fled, leaving all the evidences of his shot +behind him! Jim's loyal heart bounded; here he could help. He +turned, raced across the loft, clattered down the steep, cobwebby +stairs, slipped through the shed passage, through the kitchen, and +on into his own room. + +He knew what to do. Nothing must show that the gun had ever been +used! He set feverishly to work. He swabbed out the weapon, and hung +it on its rack over the mantel. He tossed the rags into the +fireplace and covered them with ashes. He put the shot-pouch and the +powder-flask into their proper drawer. Then he pulled a chair to the +table and set himself to a pretended study of Cæsar. If any one +should come, it would look as if he had been quietly studying all +the morning. + +All this had cost considerable self-denial; for of course he boiled +with curiosity about the man in the orchard. He did not dare to go +out there, but now, stealthily glancing out of the window, he saw +his father returning from the garden with long strides. Jim +understood. His father, going out at the front door, had slipped +round to the side of the house, so that it would look as if he had +come from the street. + +He was not surprised that his father looked stern and angry. That +fellow must have done something mighty mean, he thought, to make his +father shoot; and he admired at once the magnanimity and the skill +which had merely winged the man, as he supposed, by way, presumably, +of teaching him a lesson. Then, struck by the boldness and openness +of his father's return to the house, Jim suddenly felt that he had +been foolish; that the cleaning of the gun had not been needed. +What man would dare, after such a lesson, to complain against his +father! + +Mr. Edwards walked straight into Jim's room. Aroused from his nap by +the shot, he had leaped to the window and seen the man fall. He had +then turned and run downstairs so quickly that he had not seen the +fellow half-rise and crawl into the bushes; and, having reached the +spot, he was much relieved, if somewhat staggered, to find no body. +He did find tracks, for this was plowed ground; but they told him +nothing of the wounded man except that he had left in a hurry on a +pair of rather large feet. + +He looked about for a while, and then started toward the house, +determined to have an explanation with Jim. He knew Jim's gun by the +sound of its report, and felt no doubt that the boy had fired the +shot. What sort of culpable accident had happened? + +Suffering still with the splitting headache which he had been trying +to sleep off, angry with Jim for his carelessness, concerned lest +the man were really injured, Mr. Edwards was in his least +compromising mood. + +"How did it happen?" he asked, without preface. His tones were +harsh, and he fixed Jim with stern eyes. + +"How did it happen!" repeated Jim, in pure surprise. Certainly his +father knew much better than he how it had happened. + +"Speak out!" said Mr. Edwards, impatiently. "How did you come to +shoot that man? I want to know about it." + +"Me!" cried Jim, in complete bewilderment. "I--I haven't shot any +man, father! You know I haven't." + +Mr. Edwards, never a man of nice observation, and now bewildered +with anger and headache, took his son's genuine astonishment for +mere pretense and subterfuge. Were not the facts plain? + +"I don't want any nonsense about this," he said incisively. "I +heard your gun. I saw the man fall. No one else but you could +possibly have fired it. It's useless to lie, and I won't stand +it. Tell me at once what happened." + +"I didn't shoot him, father. You _know_ I didn't!" reiterated Jim, +more and more dumfounded. "I don't know how it happened, honest +Injun--I don't, father!" + +Mr. Edwards's mouth shut tight. He swept the room with his eyes +until they rested upon the gun in the rack over the mantelpiece. + +He stepped forward, took it down, and examined it. Holding it in his +hands, he gazed about the floor. A rag which the ashes in the +fireplace had not wholly covered caught his attention. + +"You cleaned the gun and put it away," he said grimly. "Then you +tried to hide the rag with which you cleaned it," and he touched the +bit of cloth sticking from the ashes contemptuously with his foot. +"What do you expect me to think from that?" + +Jim was silent. The boy was unlike his father in many ways, but they +were alike in this: they both were proud. Each would meet an unjust +accusation in silence. And Jim was beginning to show another of his +father's characteristics. A still anger was beginning to burn in him +against this man who accused him of a deed which he himself had +done, and he felt rising within him a stubborn will to endure, not +to surrender. If his father was going to act like that, why, let +him-- + +"Where is your shot-pouch?" asked Mr. Edwards. + +Jim motioned toward the drawer. + +"Is your powder-flask there, too?" + +"Yes." + +Mr. Edwards was silent After all, he was a just man. He was trying, +as well as his headache would let him, to see things straight. + +"It's plain what happened," he said at last. "You had an accident +and got frightened. You cleaned your gun, you hid the rags, you put +away your ammunition, you got your books and pretended to study. +You're afraid to tell the truth now." + +Jim's face flushed hotly, but he kept silent. Such assurance, such +cruelty, he had never imagined. If this was what smugglers were +like--if this was a sample of their tricks-- + +"I'll give you one more chance to tell the truth," said Mr. Edwards. +"Did you do it?" + +"No, I didn't!" said Jim, and his jaw snapped close like his +father's. + +"Very well," said Mr. Edwards. "I'll leave you until you change +your mind. You will stay here. Sarah will bring you bread and milk +at supper-time. If you're willing to talk to me then, you may tell +her that you'd like to see me." + +He turned to go, then paused. + +"It's a serious matter; and all the facts are against you. It would +go hard with you in court. It will go harder if you stick to your +stubborn and foolish lie. One thing more: if you don't choose to +tell the truth, you will have to reckon with the law as well as +with me." + +Mr. Edwards, upon this, shut the door and departed. His was a stern +figure, but the hurt within was very sore. This, then, he reflected +bitterly, was the kind of boy he had. He suffered deeply at the +discovery, which for him was unquestionable. + +Jim felt outraged. He had done his loyal best to save his father +from the consequences of his rash act, and now, with incredible +ingenuity and cool injustice, his father was using his son's acts of +helpfulness to make it appear that he had done the deed. Without a +scruple, his father had made him a scapegoat. + +Jim told himself that he would gladly have taken the blame had his +father, as chief of the band, demanded the sacrifice of this, his +devoted follower. Nay, more, he would have endured the ordeal +without a murmur had his father, deeming it unsafe to enter into +formal explanations, only hinted to him that this was a farce which +they two must play together. If his father had only winked at him! +Surely he might have done that with safety! But not to be admitted +to the secret,--not to be allowed to play the heroic part,--to be +used as an ignoble tool by a father who neither loved him nor knew +his courage,--that was too much! He would not betray his father--no, +a thousand times, no! But the day would come-- + +The afternoon dragged on. Jim sat there in his room, looking out +into the pleasant sunshine, conscious that the boys were playing +"three old cat" in the field not faraway--as rebellious and +magnanimous, as hot and angry, as heroic and morally muddled a boy +as one could wish to see. And looking at the affair from his point +of view, not many people will blame him. It is delightful, of +course, to have a pirate chief for father; but what if he makes you +walk the plank? + +It is amusing to think of Mr. Peaslee and Jim each shut up in his +respective room; but if Mr. Peaslee in his gloomy parlor--faced by +the crayon portrait of his masterful wife, a vase of wax flowers +under a glass dome, the family Bible on a marble-topped table, and +three stiff horsehair-covered chairs--had the advantage of being +able to leave at any moment, he was even more perturbed in mind. + +"Terrible awk'ard mess," he kept repeating to himself, as he mopped +his damp forehead with his handkerchief, "terrible awk'ard." And +indeed it would be awkward for a respectable citizen with political +aspirations to be accused before a grand jury of which he is a +member of assault with a dangerous weapon upon an inoffensive man. + +Mr. Peaslee's reflections rose in a strophe of hope and fell in an +antistrophe of despair. + +"'T ain't likely it hurt him any--just bird shot," said Hope. + +"Bird shot's mighty irritatin'--specially to a wrathy fellow," said +Despair. + +And alternating thus, his thoughts ran on: "Bird shot'll show I +didn't have any serious _in_tent; but mebbe a piece of the marble +struck him. He went off mighty lively; don't seem as if he'd been +hurt _much_; more scared hurt, likely. But he might have been hurt +bad, arm or suthin', mebbe. Marble! 'T ain't anythin' but baked +clay; split all to pieces prob'ly--but ye can't tell. I've heard ye +can shoot a taller candle through an inch plank--and that's +consid'able softer than a marble. And that pesky cat's jest as +frisky as ever!" + +Had any one seen him? There certainly had not been any one in the +street, but where had been Mr. Edwards, Jim, the housekeeper? Where +had his own wife been? There were windows from which she might have +seen him returning, some from which she might even have seen him +fire the fatal shot. But pshaw, there now! Probably no one had seen +him at all, not even his wife, not even his victim! Probably no one +would ever find out. + +"Must have been some worthless feller, stealin' apples, mebbe, who +won't dare make a fuss. 'T ain't likely I'll ever hear anythin' of +it. 'T ain't no use sayin' anythin' till suthin' happens. What folks +don't know don't hurt 'em none." + +The structure of comfort which he thus built himself was shaky +indeed, but it had to serve. He nerved himself to meet his wife. He +must not excite her suspicion by too long an absence. She was +doubtless full of curiosity, for of course she had heard the shot, +and would expect him to know what it meant. + +It would not do to seem to enter the house by the front door, sacred +to formal occasions, so, sneaking outdoors again, he slipped round +to the side of the house, and with much trepidation went into the +kitchen. + +His wife began the moment she saw him. "Well, of all the crazy +carryings on!" she cried. "What's the Ed'ards boy firin' off guns +for, right under peaceable folks' windows? I'm goin' to speak to Mr. +Ed'ards right off." + +"Now don't ye, Sarepty, now don't ye!" said Mr. Peaslee, in alarm. + +Relieved as he was to find himself unsuspected, he did not like the +idea of having his wife pick a quarrel with Mr. Edwards for what he +himself had done! The less said about that shot the better he would +be pleased. + +"For the land's sake, why not, I should like to know?" + +"Well, now, Sarepty, I wouldn't. That Ed'ards boy ain't more of a +boy than most boys, I guess. Always seemed a real peaceable little +feller. And Ed'ards is kinder touchy, I guess. It might make hard +feelin'. 'T wouldn't look well for us to speak, bein' newcomers so. +I wouldn't, Sarepty, I wouldn't. Mebbe some time I'll slide in a +word, just slide it in kinder easy, if he does it again." + +And Mr. Peaslee looked appealingly at his wife through his big +spectacles, his eyes looking very large and pathetic through the +strong lenses. + +"Humph!" said his wife, unmoved. "I ain't afraid of Ed'ards, if you +be." + +Nor could she be moved from her determination. Mr. Peaslee was +vastly disturbed. + +But presently he forgot this small annoyance in greater ones. That +evening after tea, when he went up to the post-office, he heard that +Pete Lamoury had been shot by Jim Edwards, and was now in bed with +his wounds. Jim's arrest was predicted. Young Farnsworth, who kept +the crockery store, told him the news. And presently Jake Hibbard, +the worst "shyster" in the village, shuffled in--noticeable anywhere +for his suit of rusty black, his empty sleeve pinned to his coat, +the green patch over his eye, and his tobacco-stained lips. He +confirmed the report. + +"Pete's hurt bad," he said, shaking his head, "hurt bad. I've taken +his case. Young Edwards is going to see trouble." + +The speech frightened poor Mr. Peaslee, and he was hardly reassured +by the skeptical smile of Squire Tucker, and his remark that he +would believe that Lamoury was hurt when he saw him. The squire had +small faith in either Lamoury or Hibbard. He knew them both. + +But Mr. Peaslee returned home with dragging feet. Silent and +preoccupied all the evening, he went to bed early--but not to sleep. +Long he lay awake and tossed, while the Calico Cat wailed on the +rear fence--exultant, triumphant, insulting. + +And when he did finally get to sleep, he dreamed that he was being +prosecuted in court by--was it Jake Hibbard, with the green patch +over his eye, or the Calico Cat, with the black patch over hers? He +could not tell, study the fantastic, ominous figure of his +prosecutor as he would! + + + + +[Illustration: Cat sitting on post looking forward.] + +III + + +Immediately after breakfast on Monday morning Mr. Peaslee, in a mood +of desperate self-sacrifice, started up-town to buy a knife--for +Jim! + +All day long on Sunday, when he had nothing to do but think, he had +struggled between his fear of exposure and his sorrow for the boy. +The upshot was a determination to "make it up to him" by giving him +a knife. He had in his mind's eye a marvel--stag-horn handle, four +blades, saw, awl, file, hoof-hook, corkscrew! Such a knife as that, +he felt, would console any boy for being arrested. "Most likely 't +will end right there," he said to himself. + +"I guess I'd better go to Farley's," he thought, as he walked along. +"Farley owes money to the bank. He won't dare to stick it on like +the rest." + +But when he entered the store and looked about, his face fell. Mr. +Farley was not there! Willie Potter, Farley's clerk, a young man +peculiarly distasteful to Solomon, lounged forward with a toothpick +in his mouth. Mr. Peaslee had half a mind to go, but the thought of +poor Jim held him back. + +"What will you have to-day, Mr. Peaslee?" inquired Willie, affably. +He winked at young Dannie Snow, who sat grinning on a keg of nails, +as much as to say, "Watch me have some fun with the old man." + +"I thought mebbe I'd look at some jack-knives," said Solomon, eyeing +Willie distrustfully. + +"Yes, sir, I guess you want the best, regardless of expense," said +Willie, impudently. He well understood his customer's dislike for +spending a penny. Stepping behind the counter, he drew from the +show-case and held up admiringly the most costly knife in the store. + +"Here, now, what do you say to this? Very superior article. Best +horn, ten blades, best razor steel. Three-fifty, and cheap at the +price. Can't be beat this side of Boston. Just the article for you, +sir." + +And he winked again at Dannie Snow, who was pink with suppressed +merriment. + +"Well, now, well, now," said Solomon, taking the knife in his hand +and pretending to examine it closely. "That's a pretty knife, to be +sure,--to--be--sure. Real showy, ain't it? Looks as if 't was made +to sell--all outside and no money in the bank, like some young +fellers ye see." + +Dannie Snow giggling outright, Mr. Peaslee turned and gazed at him +in mild inquiry. Young Potter turned a dull red. He was addicted to +radiant cravats and gauzy silk handkerchiefs, and from his "salary" +of eight dollars a week he did not save much. + +But just the same, Mr. Peaslee had been staggered at the price. +Pretending still to examine the knife which Willie had given him, he +squinted past it at the contents of the glass show-case on which his +elbows rested. There all sorts of knives confronted him, each in its +little box, in which was stuck a card stating the price,--$1.50, +$1.25, 90c, 45c. The cheapest one would eat up the proceeds of three +dozen eggs at fifteen cents a dozen--a good price for eggs! He had +forgotten that knives cost so much. + +"A good knife ain't any use to a boy," he reflected. "Break it in a +day, lose it in a week. 'T wouldn't be any real kindness to him. +Just wastin' money." + +He pointed finally to a stubby, wooden-handled knife with one big +blade, marked 25c. + +"There, now," said he, "that's what I call a knife. Good and strong, +and no folderol. Guarantee the steel, don't ye?" + +He opened the blade and drew it speculatively across his calloused +old thumb, while with his mild blue eyes, which his spectacles +enormously exaggerated, he fixed the humbled Willie. + +"That's a good knife for the money," said that young man. +"Hand-forged." + +"Sho now, ye don't say so," said Mr. Peaslee. "I guess ye give a +discount, don't ye? Farley always allows me a little suthin'." + +"You can have it for twenty-one cents," said Willie, much irritated. +"Charge it?" + +"Guess I better pay cash," Mr. Peaslee answered hastily. If it were +charged, his wife would question the item. + +Producing an enormous wallet--very worn and very flat--from his +cavernous pocket, he deliberately searched until he found a +Canadian ten-cent piece, and adding to it enough to make up the +price, handed it to Potter, and left the store. + +Mr. Peaslee, who remembered no gift from his father other than a +very occasional big copper cent, thought himself pretty generous. +Had he not spent pretty nearly the price of two dozen eggs? + +But now a question occurred to him which he had not thought of +before. How was he to get the knife to Jim? A gift from him would +excite surprise, perhaps suspicion. It must not be known who had +sent it. Ah, there was the post office! Going in, he pushed the +little box through the barred window. + +"Say, Cyrus," he said to the postmaster, "kinder weigh up this +consignment for me, will ye?" + +The postmaster weighed the box. + +"That will cost you six cents," he said. + +"Thank ye," returned Mr. Peaslee, and dropping the box into his deep +pocket, departed. Half a dozen eggs more to get it to his next-door +neighbor! + +"'T ain't right," he muttered, "'t ain't right." + +Uncertain what to do with his gift, but feeling, on the whole, +pretty virtuous, Mr. Peaslee now started home. He thought that +Jim would not be going to school, but would wait at home for the +threatened coming of the constable; but still he was not sure, +and he wanted to keep the boy under his eye. + +Suddenly he straightened. There was Judge Ames walking up the +street, valise in hand, just from the early morning train. He had +come a few days before the opening of court. Mr. Peaslee knew him +slightly, and stood much in awe of him. He was greatly pleased when +the judge stopped and shook hands with him. + +"I am glad to hear, Mr. Peaslee," said the judge, in his precise, +lawyer-like utterance, "that you are to be on the grand jury. We +need men like you there." + +"Thank ye, judge, thank ye," said Mr. Peaslee, overcome. And he +walked on home, quite convinced that a person of his importance in +the community should not be sacrificed to the comfort of any small +boy. + +"And I've done right by the little feller, I've done right," he +assured himself, feeling the knife. + +As he turned into his own yard, he cast an anxious eye over to +the Edwards house. There sat Jim, elbows on knees, chin on hands, +staring into space. Jim was thinking that his father, had he been +a pirate chief, would not have wiped a filial tear from his eye +whenever he thought of his mother; and the boy's face showed it. +The spectacle greatly depressed Mr. Peaslee. The smallest, faintest +question entered his mind whether a twenty-five-cent knife would +console such melancholy. + +To give himself a countenance while he watched events, Solomon got a +rake and began gathering together the few autumn leaves which had +fluttered down in his front yard. It was not useless labor, for +they would "come in handy" later in "banking up" the house. + +And so, presently, he saw Sam Barton, the constable, his big +shoulders rolling as he walked, advancing down the street. Mr. +Peaslee expected him; nevertheless his appearance gave him a +disagreeable shock. Suppose the constable had been coming for him! + +"Ain't arrestin' anybody down this way, be ye?" he called, with a +feeble attempt at jocularity. Perhaps, after all-- + +"Looks like it," said Barton, succinctly. + +Mr. Peaslee stepped to the fence. "'T aint likely they'll do much +to a leetle feller like that, I guess," he said, searching the +constable's face. + +"Dunno," said Barton, passing on. + +Solomon, much concerned, leaned on his rake and watched him enter +the Edwards house. Jim had disappeared; there was some delay. + +Mrs. Peaslee came to the door. + +"Arrestin' that Ed'ards boy, be they, Solomon?" she said. "Well, +serve him right, _I_ say, shootin' guns off so. Like father, like +son. _I_ dunno as _'t was_ the son. I'd as soon believe it of the +father. Everybody knows Lamoury and he's been mixed up together. +Some of his smugglin' tricks, prob'ly." + +Mrs. Peaslee had taken a violent dislike to her taciturn neighbor, +and she did not care who knew it. Her shrill voice seemed to her +husband painfully loud, and, indeed, it was beginning to attract the +attention of the group of children who had gathered about the +Edwards gate. + +"Sh!" hissed Solomon. "Ed'ards might hear ye. 'T would hurt us if he +should take his account out of the bank." + +"Humph!" exclaimed Mrs. Peaslee. "Well," she added, "you go to the +hearin'. Justice is suthin', I guess." + +But she said no more, and with her husband and the children awaited +events--a silent group in the silent street before the silent house. +The children's eyes grew bigger and bigger with excitement. Was not +Jimmy Edwards going to be arrested for mur-r-rder? the horrid +whisper ran. One small boy, beginning to whimper, asked if Jimmy was +"going to be hung." + +The occasion was solemn even to the older eyes of Mr. Peaslee. +"S'posin' it was me," he said to himself. + +Presently Mr. Edwards, Jim, and the constable emerged from the +house. Jim looked white and frightened, but was bravely trying to +bear himself like a man. Mr. Edwards, his long, shaven upper lip +stiff as a board, looked stern and uncompromising. Barton was as big +and good-humored as ever. + +He turned upon the little boys and girls, and, waving his arm, +cried, "Scat!" They fell back--about ten feet. Thus the procession +formed: Barton and Jim, then Mr. Edwards, and--at a barely +respectful distance--the crowd of youngsters. + +Mr. Peaslee, much moved, but trying hard not to show it, thrust his +rake under the veranda with a great show of care, and joined Mr. +Edwards--much to that gentleman's surprise. Solomon's heart was +throbbing with a great resolution. + +"I always aim to be neighborly," said he, nervously lowering his +voice, for he was conscious of his wife, still standing on the +veranda. "Thought I'd just step along, too. I cal'late mebbe you'd +like comp'ny on his bail bond," and he jerked his thumb toward Jim. + +It was out; he was committed, and Solomon heaved a great sigh, he +knew not whether of relief or dismay. There was not indeed any risk +in signing with Edwards, who was "good" for any bail that the +justice was likely to require; but what would Mrs. Peaslee say if +she knew! He glanced apprehensively toward the house. + +His wife had gone in; but, evil omen! there, sitting on a +fence-post, was the Calico Cat. She was placidly washing her face; +and as her paw twinkled past the big black spot round her right eye, +she appeared, at that distance, to be greeting him with a derisive +wink. + +Mr. Edwards, although his mouth shut tighter than ever at the +mention of bail, was surprised and touched. "Thank you," he said. +"It's kind of you to think of it." + +In the village, Sam ushered them into the musty law office of Squire +Tucker, justice of the peace. The squire was a large, fat man, +clothed in rusty black, with a carelessly knotted string tie pendent +beneath a rumpled turn-down collar. He had a smooth-shaven, fat +face, lighted by shrewd and kindly eyes, which gleamed at you now +through, now over, his glasses. When the party entered he was +writing, and merely looked up under his big eyebrows long enough to +wave them all to chairs. + +Jim sat down, with the constable behind him and his father at his +left, and studied the man in whose hands he thought that his fate +rested. He watched the squire's pen go from paper to ink, ink to +paper, and listened to its scratch, scratch, and to the buzz of a +big fly against the dirty window-pane. Ashamed to look at any one, +he looked at the lawyer's big ink-well--a great, circular affair of +mottled brown wood. It had several openings, each one with its own +little cork attached with a short string to the side of the stand. +He had never seen one like it before. + +Then some one entered the room. Jim, looking sidewise, recognized +Jake Hibbard, and began covertly to study his face. He knew that +this flabby-faced, dirty man, with the little screwed-up eyes, and +the big screwed-up mouth, stained brown at the corners with tobacco, +was Pete Lamoury's lawyer. Familiar for many years to his +contemptuous young eyes, Jake now looked sinister and dangerous. +What were these men going to do to him? + +Amid his fluttering emotions and rushing thoughts one thing only +stood fixed and clear: he would not tell on his father. Some day, +when all trouble was past, he would let his father know that he knew +all the time. Then he guessed his father would be sorry and ashamed. +Now, since his father would not take him into his confidence, he +would not pretend he did the shooting. That would be his only +revenge. + +Finally, Squire Tucker, pushing his writing aside, ran his fingers +through the great mass of his tumbled gray hair, and looked +quizzically at Jim over his glasses. "So this," he said, "is the +hardened ruffian of whom our esteemed fellow citizen, Mr. Lamoury, +complains?" + +And indeed Jim, although stubborn, did not seem very dangerous. + +The squire looked about the room. + +"Is he represented by counsel?" he asked. + +"No, I represent him," said Mr. Edwards. + +"The charge against him is assault with intent to kill, I believe?" +and he looked with demure inquiry at Jake Hibbard, who nodded with a +wrath-clouded face. Tucker was not taking the case seriously. + +"Well, young man," said the justice to Jim, "what's your +explanation of this?" + +"We'll waive examination," said Mr. Edwards, briefly. + +The squire leaned back in his chair. "I suppose," he said, with +evident reluctance, "I shall have to hold him for the grand jury. +But I guess the safety of the community won't be greatly threatened +if I let him out on bail. I should think a couple of hundred would +do. I suppose there'll be no difficulty about the bond?" + +The tone of the proceedings suited Mr. Peaslee well. In his +nervousness and abstraction he had backed up to the rusty, empty +iron stove at the end of the room, and stood there, with spread +coat-tails, listening intently. On hearing the amount of bail, he +gave a sigh of relief. His incautious offer had brought him no +dangerous risk. + +Mr. Edwards, however, did not answer. Instead, consulting the +justice with a look, he turned and beckoned Jim to follow him into +the hall. + +"James," he said, "this is the last chance I shall give you. If you +confess to me, I will see that you have proper bail. If you do not, +I shall let the law take its course. You may choose." + +Jim was exasperated. If his father wished to be mean, let him _be_ +mean; at least he might drop this farce, this irritating pretense. +He lost his temper. + +"I don't care what you do!" he said fiercely. "Send me to jail if +you want to. I guess I can stand it!" + +"Is that all you have to say?" + +Jim replied with a rebellious glance. + +"Very well," said his father. "Then we will go back." Once in the +room, he stepped to the squire's desk, and talked with him in low +tones. + +Then the justice turned to Jim again, a new gravity in his jolly +face. + +"Your father," he said, "refuses to go on your bond. Have you any +sureties of your own to offer?" + +"No, sir," said Jim. + +Mr. Peaslee was outraged. What kind of a father was this! He half +started forward to offer to be one of the two sureties which the law +required, but--no, he dare not. The second surety might prove to be +any sort of worthless fellow. But Jim in jail! He had not for a +moment dreamed of that. He was very indignant with Mr. Edwards. + +Meanwhile, Jake Hibbard was studying Mr. Edwards's face with puzzled +attention. He had supposed that the lumber dealer, whom he knew to +be well-to-do, would have paid anything, signed any bond, to protect +his boy from jail. He was disconcerted. He drew his one hand across +his mouth nervously. + +"Well, Mr. Barton," said Squire Tucker, "I don't see but what you'll +have to take this young man over to Hotel Calkins." + +"Hotel Calkins" was the name which local wit gave to the county +jail. The words sent a cold shiver down Mr. Peaslee's back. They +stung him into generosity. As Barton and his prisoner, followed by +Mr. Edwards and Jake, brushed by him on their way to the door, he +slipped the knife into Jim's hand. When the boy, trying to keep back +the tears, looked up inquiringly, he murmured, in agitation:-- + +"Don't ye care, sonny! Now don't ye care!" + +He was greatly stirred--or he would not have been so incautious as +to make his present in person and in public. + + + + +[Illustration: Cat lying on fence.] + +IV + + +When Nancy Ware, Jim's pretty teacher, heard that Mr. Edwards had +let Jim go to jail, she was hotly indignant. She liked Jim, and +laughed a little over him, for she knew he adored her. In her view +he was a clumsy, nice boy; awkward and shy, to be sure, but +rewarding her friendliness now and then with a really entrancing +grin. She liked his imagination, she liked his loyalty, and she +liked his dogged resolution. + +She heard the news at the noon hour on Monday, and after her dinner +she hurried at once to the store of Fred Farnsworth. To him she +roundly declared that Mr. Edwards was a brute, a view of the man +which struck Fred as a bit highly colored. + +Fred was thirty-one or thirty-two years old, a sensible, humorous +fellow, with considerable personal force. He was very proud of the +handsome shop over which hung the sign, "Frederick W. Farnsworth, +Fine Crockery and Glassware," and still prouder of his engagement to +Miss Ware. He was the second grand juryman from Ellmington. + +"Oh," said he, "Edwards isn't a bad sort of man. He isn't very +sociable. I guess he wouldn't take much impudence, even from that +boy of his. They say Jim wouldn't own up, and the old man won't do +anything for him till he does." + +"If Jimmie Edwards says he didn't fire that gun, he didn't," said +Nancy, positively. "Jimmie isn't the lying kind. I know Mr. +Edwards. I ought not to call him a brute, I suppose. But he's one +of these obstinate men who will do anything they've made up their +minds to do, even if you prove to them that they're wrong, even if +it hurts them more than it does any one else. He's just got it into +his head that Jimmie ought to confess, and he'd let him go to the +gallows before he'd back down." + +Nancy spoke with animation, her color rose and her eyes grew bright, +and Fred looked and listened admiringly. He was skeptical about Jim, +but he was struck with the accuracy of the portrait of Edwards. + +"I guess that's about so," he said. + +"And when I think of that poor boy shut up in that awful jail, +locked into a cell, when he ought to be out-of-doors playing ball +and having a good time, it makes my blood boil!" continued Miss +Ware. "Now, Fred," she concluded, with pretty decision, "you must +stop it." + +Fred laughed. + +"Isn't that a pretty large order?" he asked. "Squire Tucker put him +there. I guess it's legal." + +"You can do _something_," said his betrothed. "Go to see Jimmie. See +if you can't find out what's the matter. Jimmie likes you, perhaps +he'll tell." + +"I didn't know Jim had any particular partiality for me," said Fred, +but he felt kindlier toward the boy in spite of himself. + +"If you can only find out what really happened, I know we can get +him out," averred Miss Ware. + +"Why don't you go yourself?" said Farnsworth. + +"I can't,--not till five o'clock. Of course I'm going then!" + +"That's about four hours off," said Farnsworth. + +"But I want something done _now_!" exclaimed Nancy. + +"Oh!" said Fred, humorously. + +"Will you go?" + +"Of course. I'll start at once." Fred dropped his banter. "I'll tell +you what, Nancy. I may not be able to do much right off, but I'll +promise you that he has a fair chance before the grand jury." + +Farnsworth started at once for the jail. It was a poor place for a +boy, he reflected, as he rang the jailer's private bell. Calkins +himself was not there, and his wife came to the door. She knew +Farnsworth; and when he asked if he might see Jim she laughed a +little, and told him to "step right in." + +"Hotel Calkins" was a brick building which looked pleasantly like a +private dwelling, as, in fact, a good half of it was. In this front +half dwelt the jailer; in the rear half, separated from the living +quarters by a thick wall and heavy doors, was the jail proper. There +Farnsworth expected to be led. + +But not at all! Mrs. Calkins ushered him into her own kitchen, where +a wash-tub showed what she was doing, where the afternoon sun and +sweet September air poured in at the open windows, and where a +canary in its cage was singing cheerily. + +Here Farnsworth was much surprised to see Jim, curled up in Mrs. +Calkins's own rocking-chair, eating a large red-cheeked apple which +he was dividing with a brand-new knife! + +"Squire Tucker told Mark," said Mrs. Calkins, enjoying the joke, +"that he guessed James would like our society full as well as that +of the prisoners." + +As for Jim, he grinned affably, and took another slice of his apple. + +The awful picture which Miss Ware had drawn of Jim's dreadful +isolation and misery and her own indignant sympathy rushed upon +Farnsworth's mind, and were so comically out of relation with the +facts that he sank weakly into the nearest chair and roared. + +"This--is--the way--you go to jail--is it?" he gasped. + +Mrs. Calkins smiled in sympathy, and Jim, half-suspecting that he +ought to be offended at this frank mirth, looked sheepishly at the +floor. + +Farnsworth recovered himself. "A mighty good friend of yours," he +said, "sent me over here." + +"Miss Ware?" asked Jim, much pleased. + +"Yes. She's coming herself right after school, loaded down with +things to console your desolate prison life, I believe," and +Farnsworth had to stop to laugh again. "But she wanted me to start +right in and help you out of this, and that's what I'm here for." + +"Thank you," said Jim, embarrassed, but polite. But it struck +Farnsworth, as he said afterward, that the boy "shied" a little. + +"Miss Ware says," he went on, "that she doesn't believe you fired +that shot, and she wants you to tell me exactly what did happen. Now +if we can show that you didn't shoot, I can get you out of here +quick." + +"What they going to do to me?" said Jim. + +"That depends. It makes a difference how much Lamoury's hurt. The +penalty might be severe if he's got a bad wound. But even then, if +we could show that you didn't know he was there, or that the gun +went off by accident, or that you were firing at something else, it +would make a big difference. And if you can show that you weren't +there at all--why, out you go, scot-free. But, Jim, you can see +yourself that if you don't tell what you know, everybody'll think +that you shot and meant to hurt Lamoury, and then it might go pretty +hard with you. Now come, tell me what happened." + +"You'd better tell, Jimmie," said Mrs. Calkins, straightening up +from her wash-tub. "You won't find any better friends than Mr. +Farnsworth and Miss Ware." + +The young man, as he talked, watched the boy curiously. Jim flushed +and squirmed, and looked now at the floor and now out at the window, +with a marked uneasiness and embarrassment that greatly puzzled his +friend. And when he stopped, and the boy had to answer, his distress +became really pitiable. + +"Can't you tell me, Jim?" Mr. Farnsworth hazarded, after a little, +putting a kindly hand on the boy's arm, while Mrs. Calkins stood +quiet by her tub in friendly expectation. + +But Jim remained dumb. + +After waiting a little, Farnsworth, seeing the boy so miserable, +took pity on him. + +"Well, never mind, Jim," he said. "You needn't tell if you don't +want to." + +He would have to let Nancy coax it out of him. But he was puzzled, +impressed with a sense of mystery and with a growing conviction that +the boy was shielding some one else. He began to talk cheerfully of +other things, hoping that Jim might perhaps drop a useful hint, or, +at least, that the boy would gain confidence in him as a friend. By +chance he asked:-- + +"Where did you get the knife, Jim?" + +"Mr. Peaslee gave it to me." + +"Peaslee!" exclaimed Farnsworth. He well knew the "closeness" of his +fellow juror. + +"It isn't much of a knife," said Jim, apologetic but pleased. Jim's +views of the world were changing: his father, although a bandit +chief, had let him go to jail, while this stingy old man, with no +halo of adventure about him, gave him a knife; and here were Miss +Ware and Mr. Farnsworth and Mrs. Calkins and the jailer, none of +them smugglers, who were very kind. + +Farnsworth rose to go. Then Jim, summoning all his courage, asked a +question which had long been trembling on his lips. + +"What do they do to smugglers, Mr. Farnsworth?" + +"Fine 'em, or put 'em in jail, or both. Why?" + +"Nothing much," said Jim, but obviously he was cast down. + +Farnsworth walked thoughtfully toward his store. "By George!" he +thought suddenly. "I wonder--" + +The gossip about the senior Edwards had occurred to him, and at the +same time he remembered the quarrel with Lamoury. + +"But what nonsense!" he thought. "If Edwards wanted to shoot any one +he wouldn't do it in his own back yard, and he wouldn't treat his +own boy that way, either." Still, the idea clung to him. + +And then he thought of Nancy, and chuckled. "If she comes to the +store before she goes to the jail I won't tell her what she'll find +there," he promised himself. + +Meanwhile, Mr. Peaslee felt a growing discomfort. He ate his dinner +and answered the brisk questions of his wife with increasing +preoccupation. Like Miss Ware, he was picturing Jim solitary and +suffering in his lonely cell. With the utmost sincerity and +ingenuousness he condemned Mr. Edwards. + +"Hain't he got any feelin' for his own flesh and blood?" he asked +himself. "'T ain't right; somebody'd ought to deal with him." + +As he pottered about his yard after dinner, he finally worked +himself up to the point of speaking to Edwards himself. + +Even his righteous indignation would not have led him to this +undertaking had he known Mr. Edwards better, or realized the +father's present mood. Hurt exceedingly by Jim's lying and contempt +of his wishes, hurt even more through his disappointed desire to +help his boy, Mr. Edwards was sore and sensitive, discontented both +with Jim and with himself. He did not want Jim in jail, he told +himself; and the neighbors who were so uniformly assuming that he +did might better give their thoughts to matters that concerned them +more. He would get the boy out of jail quick enough if the boy would +only let him. + +As he stepped out of the house to do an errand at the barn, Mr. +Peaslee hailed him over the dividing fence. Somewhat put out, Mr. +Edwards nevertheless turned and walked toward his neighbor. Mr. +Peaslee, leaning over the fence, began. + +"Ed'ards," he said, reaching out an anxious, deprecatory hand, +"don't ye think you're jest a leetle mite hard on that boy o' +yourn--" + +He got no further. Edwards gave him a look that made him shiver, and +cut the conversation short by turning on his heel and marching +toward the barn. + +"Dretful ha'sh man, dretful ha'sh!" Mr. Peaslee muttered to himself. +"Nice, likely boy as ever was. If I had a boy like that, I swan I +wouldn't treat him so con-sarned mean!" + +He turned away much shocked, and saw the Calico Cat watching him +ironically from the chicken-house. "Drat that cat!" said he. "I +ain't goin' to stay round here--not with that beast grinning at me." + +He got his hat and started up-town, not knowing in the least what he +intended to do there. He stopped, however, at every shop window and +studied baseballs, bats, tivoli-boards, accordions. He was beginning +to wonder if a twenty-five-cent knife was enough to console Jim for +his unmerited incarceration. + +He was gazing forlornly in at the window of Upham's drugstore, where +some half-dozen harmonicas were displayed, and wondering if Jim +would be allowed to play one in his dungeon cell, when Hibbard +spoke to him. + +He drew the lawyer aside, and, peering closely into his face with +anxious eyes exaggerated by his spectacles, said insinuatingly:-- + +"Jest 'twixt you and me kinder confidential, Pete ain't hurt bad, +is he? You don't mind sayin', do ye?" + +Jake drew himself up, surprised and suspicious. Did the old fool +think him as innocent as all that? + +"He's hurt bad, Mr. Peaslee, bad," he said, with dignity. "Of +course it isn't fatal--unless it should mortify." He waved his +hand deprecatingly. "I can't imagine what that Edwards boy used +in his gun." + +Mr. Peaslee knew: the marble! He trembled. Still, he knew Jake's +reputation. A shrewd thought visited his troubled mind. + +"What doctor's seein' him?" he asked. + +"Doctor!" exclaimed Hibbard, irritated. "Doctor! You know these +French Canadians. They're worse scared of a doctor than of the +evil one himself. Pete's usin' some old woman's stuff on his +wounds,--bear's grease, rattlesnake oil, catnip tea,--what do I +know? I can't make him see a doctor." + +"Some doctor'll have to testify to court, won't they?" persisted +Mr. Peaslee. + +"Oh, I'll look out for that, don't you fear!" the lawyer said +easily; but nevertheless he made a pretext for leaving the old man. + +Perhaps had Mr. Peaslee's fears not been so keen, he would have +taken some comfort from this conversation; but as it was he felt +that the lawyer was dangerous; he feared that Pete really was badly +hurt. It would go hard, then, with Jim. It would, by the same +token, go hard with himself should he confess. + +Suddenly he turned and rushed into Upham's store. + +"Upham," said he, "I want _that_!" + +And he pointed straight at a big harmonica with a strange and +wonderful "harp attachment"--bright-colored and of amazing +possibilities. + +Upham, a neat little gentleman with nicely trimmed side-whiskers, +who was always fluttered by the unexpected, hesitated, half opened +his mouth, and then forgot either to shut it or to speak. + +"Why, Mr. Peaslee," he stammered at last, "it's real expensive! +You--it's two dollars and seventy-five cents." + +"Don't care nothin' what it costs," said Mr. Peaslee, who was in a +hurry for fear lest he should think twice. + +When he came out of the store with the harmonica in his hands, he +almost stumbled into Miss Ware. She was on her way to Jim, and, of +course, her mind was full of his affairs. Here was Mr. Edwards's +next neighbor. She impulsively stopped to ask if the misguided +father still held to his resolution about Jim. + +Mr. Peaslee had reason to know that he did, and said so. "I tell +ye, Miss Ware," said he, with much emotion, "he belongs to a +stony-hearted generation, and that's a fact. He ain't got any +compassion in him, seems though." + +"It's a shame, a perfect shame!" exclaimed Nancy. + +"'T ain't right," said Mr. Peaslee, with a warmth which surprised +the young woman, and made her warm to this old man, whom she had +always thought so selfish. "'T ain't right--your own flesh and blood +so." + +"Well," said Miss Ware, "I'm going to the jail now. I want to see +Jimmie. It must be awful there." + +"Well, now, that's real kind of ye," responded Mr. Peaslee. "I +wonder now if you'd mind taking this along to him," and he offered +her the paper parcel. "It's a harmonica, I guess they call it. It's +real handsome. It cost consid'able--a pretty consid'able sum. I feel +kinder sorry for the leetle feller, and I don't grudge it a mite." +And he kept repeating, in a tone which suggested whistling to keep +your courage up, "Not a mite, not a mite." + +Miss Ware smothered a laugh on hearing what the present was. She +must not hurt the feelings of this kind old man! + +"Oh," said the little hypocrite, "that's nice! Jimmie'll be so +pleased." + +But perhaps the harmonica pleased Jim as much as the schoolbooks +which the school-teacher, with a solicitous eye on her pupil's +standing in his studies, was taking to him. Saying good-by to Mr. +Peaslee, Miss Ware, books and harmonica in hand, went on her way to +visit the afflicted boy in his dungeon. Meanwhile Jim, turning the +wringer for Mrs. Calkins, and listening to her stories of "Mark's" +prowess with all sorts of malefactors, was having an excellent time. +He had decided to be a sheriff when he grew up. + + + + +[Illustration: Cat curled up on floor.] + +V + + +The day of the assembling of the grand jury for the September term +of the Adams County court finally dawned. How Mr. Peaslee had looked +forward to that day! How often had he pictured the scene--the bustle +about the court house; the agreeable crowd of black-coated lawyers, +with their clever talk, their good stories; the grave judge, and the +still graver side judges; the greetings and hand-shakings amid much +joking and laughter; the county gossip among the grand jurors in the +informal moments before they filed into the courtroom to be sworn +and to receive the judge's charge; himself, finally, in his best +black coat and cherished beaver hat, there in the midst of +it--important, weighty, respected, a public man! + +He had cherished the vision of himself walking up the village street +on that first morning, a dignitary returning the cordial and +admiring salutes of his village friends. He had seen himself later +in the jury-room, shrewdly "leading" the reluctant witness, +delivering weighty opinions on the bearing of testimony, and making +all respect him as a marvel of conservatism, dignity, and wisdom. +This was to be one of the most important and pleasurable days of his +life, the rung in a ladder of preferment which reached as high as +the state-house dome! + +And when that day came, it rained; steadily, gloomily, fiercely +rained. Solomon was not allowed to wear his best clothes. When, +peering out of the window, he hopefully said he "guessed mebbe 't +was goin' to clear," his wife invited him tartly to "wait till it +did." + +She insisted that he put on his every-day clothes, and thus arrayed, +and without meeting a single villager to realize the importance of +his errand, he waded up to the court house, the pelting rain +rattling on his old umbrella, the fierce wind almost wrenching it +inside out. + +There was, of course, no parade on the courthouse steps for the +benefit of a wondering village, as there would have been had the day +been fine. Instead, the men, steaming with wet, stood about +uncomfortably in the corridors, muddy with the mud from their feet, +wet with the drip from their umbrellas. The air in the court house +was close, and every one felt uncomfortable and depressed. + +Mr. Peaslee, having greeted three or four men whom he knew, found +himself jammed into a corner behind four or five jurors who were +strangers to him, but he was too disheartened to try to scrape +acquaintance with them. He felt lonely and helpless. + +He looked enviously over to the other end of the corridor, where +Fred Farnsworth, Eben Sampson, and Albion Small were standing +together. In contrast with the others, these men were laughing. +Albion was "consid'able of a joker," Mr. Peaslee reflected gloomily. + +Then old Abijah Keith stormed in, and in his high, shrill voice +began immediately to utter his unfavorable opinion of everything and +everybody. + +"Well, if he ain't here again!" exclaimed, in disgust, Hiram +Hopkins, one of the men in front of Solomon. "Cantankerest old +lummux in the whole state--just lots on upsetting things. Abijah!" +he snorted. "Can't Abijah, I call him!" + +Mr. Peaslee shrank back into his corner nervously. He knew this old +tyrant and dreaded him. + +Not much was done that first day. The clerk swore them; the judge +charged them, and appointed the sensible, steady Sampson foreman. +Then they retired to the jury-room--a big, desolate place, wherein +was a long, ink-spattered table surrounded by wooden armchairs and +spittoons. The grand jurors seated themselves, and were solemnly +silent while John Paige, the state's attorney, began the dull task +of presenting cases. Mr. Peaslee found that he had nothing brilliant +to say. + +As a matter of fact, his own troubles were making him see everything +yellow. The jurymen did not seem to him as agreeable a lot as he had +expected, and as for Paige, he irritated Solomon beyond measure. + +Paige was an able young man and a good lawyer, and was entitled to +the position which he had attained so young; but, the son of a man +of rather exceptional means, he had been educated at a city college, +and had a sophistication which Solomon viewed with deep suspicion. +Moreover, he discarded the garb which Mr. Peaslee regarded as +sacred. He was not in black. Instead, he wore a light gray business +suit, his collar was very knowing in cut, and his cravat of dark +blue was caught with a gold pin. + +"Citified smart Aleck," was Mr. Peaslee's characterization. To tell +the truth, he mistrusted the man's ability, and was afraid of him. +If that fellow knew, Mr. Peaslee felt that it would go hard with +him. Generally, Paige was popular. + +Solomon had, of course, been painfully awake to every hint and +intimation in regard to Jim's case. He had seen Jake Hibbard, that +carrion crow of the law, loafing about the corridors, and the sight +had made him shiver. He had next heard that Jim's case would be +quickly called,--probably on the next day,--news producing a complex +emotion, the elements of which he could not distinguish. +Furthermore, a remark or so which he overheard indicated that the +out-of-town men were inclined to take a harsh view of the matter. +And reflecting on all these things, he paddled home through the +depressing wet. + +And the next day it rained. + +More and more perturbed, as the climax approached, Mr. Peaslee took +his place in the jury-room, and sat there with unhearing ears. He +sat and thought and delivered battle with his conscience, which was +growing painfully vigorous and aggressive. But, after all, perhaps +they would not find a true bill, and then Jim would go free, and he +could breathe again. Mr. Peaslee clung to the hope, and hugged it. +It was the one thing which gave him courage. + +"Gentlemen of the grand jury," suddenly he heard Paige saying, "the +next case for you to consider is that of James Edwards, aged +fifteen, of Ellmington, charged with assault, with intent to kill, +upon one Peter Lamoury, also of Ellmington." + +And he proceeded to read the complaint, which, in spite of the +monotonous rapidity with which he rattled it off, scared Mr. Peaslee +badly with its solemn-sounding legal phraseology. + +"Gentlemen," said Paige, laying down the paper, "there was no +eyewitness to the actual assault; and only three people have any +personal knowledge of the event--Mr. Edwards, the defendant's +father, the accused himself, and the complainant. Mr. Lamoury, his +counsel tells me, is in no condition to appear. But I have here," +lifting a paper, "his affidavit, properly executed, giving his +version of the matter. The boy's father, however, is at hand. +Probably the jury would like to question him." + +"It seems to me," said Mr. Sampson, "that Mr. Edwards would be +pretty apt to know the rights of it, if he's willing to talk. I +guess we'd better hear him." + +The state's attorney stepped to the door. + +"This way, please!" he called, and Mr. Edwards entered the room. + +Farnsworth and Peaslee both studied the man's face closely, +although for very different reasons, and both found it sternly +uncompromising. + +"Please take a chair, Mr. Edwards," said Paige, and in a swift +glance rapidly estimated the man. "Here's some one who won't lie," +he thought, impressed. + +"Now," he resumed, "will you kindly tell the members of the grand +jury what you know of the case?" + +Mr. Edwards cleared his throat painfully. Determined as he was to +let his rebellious boy take whatever punishment his mistaken course +might bring, he now began to wish that the punishment would be +light. His confidence that Jim needed only to be pushed a little to +confess was somewhat shaken, and the charge was really serious. He +felt a desire to explain, to palliate, to minimize. + +"Gentlemen," he said, "my boy's always been a good boy. I can't +believe that he meant to hurt Lamoury or any one else. It must have +been some accident--" + +"Facts, please," said Paige, crisply. + +Mr. Peaslee caught his breath indignantly. He had been entirely in +sympathy with Mr. Edwards's soft mode of approaching his story. +Paige seemed to him unfeeling. + +"I will answer any questions," said Mr. Edwards, stiffening. + +"Did you hear any shot fired?" began Paige. + +"Yes." + +"Where were you?" + +"I was asleep in the room above Jim's." + +"Was Jim in his room?" + +"I suppose so." + +"You suppose so. Don't you know?" + +"No, I don't know." + +"But to the best of your knowledge and belief he was there?" + +"Yes." + +"And the shot waked you?" + +"Yes." + +"What did you do on hearing the shot?" + +"I jumped to the window." + +"Tell what you saw, please." + +"I saw a man fall in the orchard, and hurried out to see if he was +hurt. But he was gone when I got there." + +"Then what?" + +"I went to speak to Jim." + +"He was in his room, then, immediately after the shot?" + +"Yes." + +"Ah! And when you spoke to him, did he admit firing the shot?" + +"No." + +"Did he deny it?" + +"Yes." + +"Where was his gun?" + +"In the rack over the mantel." + +"In the rack over the mantel," repeated Paige, slowly, glancing at +the jurors. "Did you examine it?" + +"Yes." + +"What was its condition? Did it show that it had been fired?" + +"No; it was clean." + +"It was clean," repeated Paige. "I understand that it was a +double-barreled, muzzle-loading shotgun. Were there any rags about?" + +"Yes." + +"Where were they?" + +"One was in the ashes of the fireplace." + +"Look as if some one had tried to hide it?" + +"Yes"--reluctantly. + +"If it was that sort of gun, there must have been a shot-pouch and +powder-flask. Where were they?" + +"In the drawer where Jim keeps them." + +"Everything looked, then, as if no shot had been fired?" + +"Yes." + +"Was there any one besides yourself and your son in the house?" + +"No." + +"Your housekeeper?" + +"She had stepped out." + +"To the best of your knowledge, then, there was no one about to fire +the shot except your son?" + +"No." + +"That will do," said Paige, with an accent of finality. "That is," +he added, with the air of one who observes a courteous form, "unless +some of the grand jurors wish to ask a question." + +There were various things which were new to Mr. Peaslee in this +testimony. He had supposed that Jim had been picked as the guilty +person by a process of mere exclusion; he had had no idea that the +case against him was so strong. How had the boy got to the room so +soon after he himself had left, and why had he gone there? And why, +why had he cleaned the shotgun? The grand jury must believe in his +guilt. And when the case came to trial, what could Jim say to clear +himself? It was going hard, hard with the boy. + +Mr. Peaslee's mouth grew dry, his palms moist; he moved uneasily in +his chair. Once or twice he felt sure that the next instant he would +find himself on his feet, but the minutes passed and he still was +seated. + +And Farnsworth, anxious, for the sake of his betrothed, Miss Ware, +to help Jim, was nonplussed. There were two possible explanations +of Jim's cleaning the gun, if he did clean it: the first, that Jim +was protecting himself; the second, that he was shielding some one +else. + +But the second theory seemed quite untenable. Farnsworth had made +some cautious but well-directed inquiries about Mr. Edwards, and had +satisfied himself that the rumors about his smuggling were nothing +but malicious gossip. There was not a man of greater honesty in the +state. The boy must have done the shooting. Miss Ware would have to +give it up. Still, he would hazard a question. + +"Mr. Edwards," he said, "Lamoury worked for you once, didn't he?" + +"Yes." + +"You quarreled, didn't you?" + +"I discharged him for intemperance." + +"There was no bad blood?" + +"Lamoury was angry, I believe." + +Farnsworth stopped; there was nothing to be gained by this course of +questioning in the way of clearing Jim. Of course later, the point +that Lamoury had a grudge against the family might have importance, +although he could not see just how. Some one else surely heard that +gunshot. It was incredible that the neighborhood should be so +deserted. If only there were another witness! + +The other jurors had no questions. They were, to tell the truth, a +little impatient. It was near the dinner-hour, and they were hungry. +The case seemed perfectly plain to them. It was not likely, they +argued, that the boy's father could be mistaken. + +"You may go," said Paige to Mr. Edwards. + +"I don't see," he began, when the witness had left the room, "any +need for our going further into this case. Whatever we may think of +the animus of the complainant,--I take it that was what you wished +to bring out, Mr. Farnsworth,--there seems to be no question but +that the boy fired the shot. The presumption seems strong also that +he intended to hit. Were there any accident or any good excuse, the +boy could, of course, have no motive not to tell it. I suggest that +a true bill be found at once, and that we proceed to more important +matters. I want to remind you that we have a great deal of work +before us." + +"Well, gentlemen," said Sampson, "I guess we're pretty much of a +mind about this. If no one has any objections, I guess we'll call it +a vote." He looked round. + +"As we're all agreed--" he began. + +"Just a moment, Sampson!" suddenly exclaimed Farnsworth. It had just +then flashed over him that Mr. Peaslee, the kind Mr. Peaslee, who +gave Jim knives and harmonicas, was next-door neighbor to the +Edwardses. If he had been at home when the shot was fired, he must +have heard it, and he might have seen some significant thing which +questioning might bring out. Of course, if Peaslee had seen +anything, he would have spoken, but he might have overlooked the +importance of some fact or other. + +"Just a moment, Sampson!" he said, and put up his hand. Then he +swung sharply in his chair and put the question:-- + +"Peaslee, where were you when that shot was fired?" + + + + +[Illustration: Cat standing alert facing forward.] + +VI + + +"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 a +word 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 some notes 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 sake and 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 up you'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 on a 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 things +slip 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 a farcical 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 which rested 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'us business, _I_ call it. +Guess the grand jury's got suthin' to say to it, hain't they? Cat? +Cat's foot, _I_ say. 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 +the sense 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 had Farnsworth 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 Sampson +nodded 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 bank had 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 and +watching 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 +against the 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 need +to 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 the court. 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. + +"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 was not 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!" + +[Illustration: HE TURNED TO FACE THE STORM] + + + + +[Illustration: Cat drinking from saucer.] + +VII + + +When the 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 away at 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. No other 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 the half-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 the turmoil 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, in +spite 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 Jim first, +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 that _I_ shot +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 for a 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 of the 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 his face. 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 Ah ain'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, mebbe four 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 aid of 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? Respect_a_ble 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 brushed the +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!" +and Pete, 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?" The delighted 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 never let 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 slight start, 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 greatly injured, 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 for sixty 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?" asked Mrs. 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 to express 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. + + ++------------------------------------------+ +|Transcriber's Note | +| | +|The cover illustration referred to in the | +|Author's Note at the beginning of this | +|book was not available for this electronic| +|version of the text. | ++------------------------------------------+ + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Calico Cat, by Charles Miner Thompson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CALICO CAT *** + +***** This file should be named 20010-8.txt or 20010-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/0/1/20010/ + +Produced by Jacqueline Jeremy, David Edwards and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Calico Cat + +Author: Charles Miner Thompson + +Illustrator: F. R. Gruger + +Release Date: December 3, 2006 [EBook #20010] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CALICO CAT *** + + + + +Produced by Jacqueline Jeremy, David Edwards and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1 style="margin-top: 4em;">THE CALICO CAT</h1> +<h4>BY</h4> +<h2>CHARLES MINER THOMPSON</h2> + + +<h4>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY</h4> +<h2>F. R. GRUGER</h2> + + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/logo.jpg" title="logo" height="206" width="150" alt="logo" /></div> + +<h4>BOSTON AND NEW YORK</h4> +<h3>HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY</h3> +<h4>The Riverside Press Cambridge</h4> +<h5>1908</h5> + + +<h5>COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY CHARLES MINER THOMPSON</h5> +<h5>ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</h5> + +<h5><i>Published October, 1908</i></h5> + +<h5>SECOND IMPRESSION</h5> + + +<hr style="width: 35%; margin-top: 10em; margin-bottom: 2em;" /> + +<h3 style="font-family: serif;">TO MY WIFE</h3> + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + + +<div class="block" style="width: 400px;"> +<h2>NOTE</h2> + +<p>I have to make these acknowledgments: to Mr. Ira Rich Kent for many +a helpful suggestion in the framing of the story; to the publishers +of "The Youth's Companion," in which the tale first appeared, for +permitting the use of Mr. Gruger's admirable illustrations, and to +Mr. Francis W. Hight for the very pleasant cat which he has drawn +for the cover.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap2" style="padding-left: 250px;">The Author</span></p> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%; margin-top: 5em;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/chap_1.jpg" title="Cat dozing upon the top of the fence." height="221" width="183" alt="Cat dozing upon the top of the fence." /></div> + +<h1 style="font-family: serif;">THE CALICO CAT</h1> + +<h2>I</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">M</span><span class="smcap">r. peaslee</span> looked more complacent than ever. It was Saturday noon, +and Solomon had just returned from his usual morning sojourn +"up-street." He had taken off his coat, and was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> washing his face at +the sink, while his wife was "dishing up" the midday meal. There was +salt codfish, soaked fresh, and stewed in milk—"picked up," as the +phrase goes; there were baked potatoes and a thin, pale-looking pie. +Mrs. Peaslee did not believe in pampering the flesh, and she did +believe in saving every possible cent.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mr. Peaslee, as they sat down to this feast, "I guess +I've got news for ye."</p> + +<p>His wife gazed at him with interest.</p> + +<p>"Are ye drawed?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Got the notice from Whitcomb<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> right in my pocket. Grand juror. +September term. 'T ain't more'n a week off."</p> + +<p>The <i>staccato</i> utterance was caused by the big mouthfuls of codfish +and potato which, between phrases, Mr. Peaslee conveyed to his +mouth. It was plain to see that he was greatly pleased with his new +dignity.</p> + +<p>"What do they give ye for it?" asked his wife. Solomon should accept +no office which did not bring profit.</p> + +<p>"Two dollars a day and mileage," said Mr. Peaslee, with the emphasis +of one who knows he will make a sensation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>"Mileage? What's that?"</p> + +<p>"Travelin' expenses. State allows ye so much a mile. I get eight +cents for goin' to the courthouse."</p> + +<p>"Ye get eight cents every day?" asked his wife, her eyes snapping. +She was vague about the duties of a grand juror; maybe he had to +earn his two dollars; but she had exact ideas about the trouble of +walking "up-street." To get eight cents for that was being paid for +doing nothing at all, and she was much astonished at the idea.</p> + +<p>"Likely now, ain't it?" said Mr. Peaslee, with masculine scorn. +"State don't waste money that way!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> Mileage's to get ye there an' +take ye home again when term's over. You're s'posed to stay round +'tween whiles."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said his wife, disappointed. "They give ye two dollars a +day"—she hazarded the shot—"just for settin' round and talkin', +don't they? Walkin's considerable more of an effort for most folks."</p> + +<p>"'Settin' round an' talkin'!'" exclaimed Mr. Peaslee, so indignantly +that he stopped eating for a moment, knife and fork upright in his +rigid, scandalized hands, while he gazed at his thin, energetic, +shrewish little wife. "'Settin' round and talkin'!'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> It's mighty +important work, now I tell ye. I guess there wouldn't be much law +and order if it wa'n't for the grand jury. They don't take none but +men o' jedgment. Takes gumption, I tell ye. Ye have to pay money to +get that kind."</p> + +<p>"Well," said his wife, with the air of one who concedes an +unimportant point, "anyhow, it's good pay for a man whose time ain't +worth anythin'."</p> + +<p>"Ain't worth anythin'!" exclaimed Mr. Peaslee, in hurt tones. "Now, +Sarepty, ye know better'n that. I don't know how they'll get along +without me up to the bank.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> They've got a pretty good idee o' my +jedgment 'bout mortgages. They don't pass any without my say so."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Peaslee sniffed. "I've seen ye in the bank window, settin' +round with Jim Bartlett and Si Spooner and the rest of 'em. Readin' +the paper—that's all <i>I</i> ever see ye doin'. Must be wearin' on ye."</p> + +<p>"Guess ye never heard what was said, did ye? Can't hear 'em +thinkin', I guess. They're mighty shreüd up to the bank, mighty +shreüd."</p> + +<p>They had finished their codfish and potato, and Mrs. Peaslee, +with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>out giving much attention to her husband's testimony to the +business acumen of his banking friends and incidentally of himself, +pulled the pale, thin pie toward her and cut it.</p> + +<p>"Pass up your plate," said she.</p> + +<p>When his plate was again in place before him, Mr. Peaslee inserted +the edge of his knife under the upper crust and raised it so that he +could get a better view of its contents; he had his suspicions of +that pie. What he saw confirmed them; between the crusts was a thin, +soft layer of some brown stuff, interspersed with spots of red.</p> + +<p>"Them's the currants we had for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> supper the night before last, and +that's the dried-apple sauce we had for supper last night," he +announced accurately. "An' ye know how I like a proper pie."</p> + +<p>"I ain't goin' to waste good victuals," said his wife, with +decision.</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment; Solomon did not dare make any +further protest.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," his wife said, picking up again the thread of her +thoughts, "ye'll have to wear your go-to-meetin' suit all the time +to the grand jury. I expect they'll be all wore out at the end. +That'll take off something. You be careful, now.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> Settin' round's +awful wearin' on pants. You get a chair with a cushion. And don't ye +go treatin' cigars. And don't ye go to the hotel for your victuals. +I ain't goin' to have ye spendin' your money when ye can just as +well come home. Where ye goin' now?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Peaslee was putting on his coat. "Well," he said, "I kind o' +thought I'd step over to Ed'ards's. I thought mebbe he'd be +interested."</p> + +<p>"Goin' to brag, are ye?" was his wife's remorseless comment. "Much +good it'll do ye, talkin' to that hatchet-face. He ain't so pious as +he looks, if all stories are true."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Mr. Peaslee was already outside the door. She raised her voice +shrilly. "You be back, now; them chickens has got to be fed!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Peaslee sought a more sympathetic audience. Being drawn for the +grand jury had greatly flattered his vanity, for it encouraged a +secret ambition which he had long held to get into public life. +Service on the grand jury might lead to his becoming selectman, +perhaps justice of the peace, perhaps town representative from +Ellmington—who knew what else? He looked down a pleasant vista of +increasing office, at the end of which stood the state capitol. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +could be senator, perhaps! And he began planning his behavior as +juror, the dignified bearing, the well-matured utterances, the +shrewd cross-questioning. At the end of his service his neighbors +would know him for a man of solid judgment, a "safe" man to be +intrusted with weighty affairs.</p> + +<p>Mr. Peaslee was fifty-three years old. He had a comfortable figure, +a clean-shaven, round face, and blue eyes much exaggerated for the +spectator by the strong lenses of a pair of great spectacles. These, +with his gray hair, gave him a benevolence of aspect which somewhat +misrepre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>sented him. As a matter of fact, although good-humored and +not without a still surviving capacity for generous impulse, he was +only less "near" than his wife. Childishly vain, he bore himself +with an air of self-satisfaction not without its charm for humorous +neighbors. They said that they guessed he thought himself "some +punkins."</p> + +<p>"Some punkins" most people admitted him to be, although how much of +his money and how much of his shrewdness was really his wife's was +matter of debate among those who knew him best. At any rate, the +Peaslees had made money.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> A few years before, they had sold their +fat farm "down-river" advantageously, and had bought the dignified +white house in Ellmington in which they have just been seen eating a +dinner which looks as if they were "house poor." That they were not; +they had thirty thousand dollars in the local bank, partly invested +in its stock. In Ellmington Mrs. Peaslee was less lonely, and +through Mr. Peaslee was an unsuspected director in the bank, and a +shrewd user of the chances for profitable investment which her +husband's association with the "bank crowd" opened to her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>As for Mr. Peaslee, he did not know that he himself was not the +business head of the house; and his garden, his chickens, and his +pleasant loafing in the bank window kept him contentedly occupied. +For, in spite of her shrewish tongue, Mrs. Peaslee had tact enough +to let her husband have the credit for her business acumen. "I ain't +goin' to let on," she said to herself, "that he ain't just as good +as the rest of 'em." She had her pride.</p> + +<p>As Mr. Peaslee stepped along the straight walk which divided his +neat lawn, and opened the neat gate in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> his neat white fence, he met +Sam Barton, the broad-shouldered, good-humored giant who was +constable of Ellmington. Sam gave him a smiling "How are ye, +squire?" as he passed.</p> + +<p>"Guess he's heard," said Mr. Peaslee to himself, much pleased. Yet, +as a matter of fact, the greeting was not different from that which +Sam had given him daily for the past three years.</p> + +<p>Once on the sidewalk, Mr. Peaslee turned to the right toward the +house of his neighbor, Mr. Edwards. Edwards was a younger man than +Peaslee, perhaps forty-seven. His<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> business was speculating in +lumber and cattle, and in the interest of this he was constantly +passing and re passing the Canadian border, which was not far from +Ellmington. In the intervals between his trips he was much at home. +He was a stern, silent, secretive man, and simply because he was so +close-mouthed there was much guessing and gossip, not wholly kind, +about his affairs.</p> + +<p>Mr. Peaslee found the front door of the Edwards house standing open +in the trustful village fashion, and, with neighborly freedom, +walked in without ringing. He turned first into the sitting-room, +where he found no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> one, and then into a rear room opening from it. +This obviously was a boy's "den." On the table in the centre were a +checkerboard, some loose string, a handful of spruce gum, some +scattered marbles, a broken jack-knife, a cap, a shot-pouch, an old +bird's nest, a powder-flask, a dog-eared copy of "Cæsar's +Commentaries," open, and a Latin dictionary, also open. In a corner +stood a fishing-rod in its cotton case; along the wall were ranged +bait-boxes, a fishing-basket, a pair of rubber boots, and a huge +wasp's nest. Leaning against the sill of the open window was a +double-barreled shot<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>gun, and on the sill itself were some black, +greasy rags and a small bottle of oil.</p> + +<p>Various truths might be inferred from the disarray. One was that Mr. +Edwards was generous to his son Jim, and another was that there was +no Mrs. Edwards. Further, it might be easily enough guessed that Jim +had been lured from the study of Latin, in which pretty Miss Ware, +who was his teacher at the "Union" school, was trying to interest +him, by the attractive idea of oiling his gun-barrels, and that +something still more attractive—perhaps a boy with crossed fingers, +for it was not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> too late for swimming—had lured him from that. At +any rate, Jim was not there.</p> + +<p>Mr. Peaslee, still bent on finding Mr. Edwards, moved toward the +open window. But he could see no signs of life anywhere. None of the +household was, however, far away. Jim was in the loft of the barn, +where he was carefully examining a barrel of early apples with a +view to filling his pockets with the best; the housekeeper had +merely stepped across the street to borrow some yeast, and Mr. +Edwards, who had a headache, was lying down in the chamber +immediately above Jim's den.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>Mr. Peaslee stood and gazed. He eyed in turn the kitchen ell, the +shed, and the barn, and then gazed out over the "posy" garden, where +still bloomed a few late flowers, of which he recognized only the +"chiny" asters. He looked toward what he himself would have called +the "sarce" garden, with its cabbages, turnips, rustling +corn-stalks, and drying tomato-vines. Seeing no one there, he sent +his gaze to the distant rows of apple trees, bright with ripening +fruit. Disappointed, he was about to turn away, but he could not +resist taking a complacent, sweeping view of his own adjoining +possessions.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>There, on the right, ran the long line of his own dwelling, +continued by the five-foot board fence separating his garden from +Mr. Edwards's. This stood up gauntly white until near the orchard, +where it was completely hidden by the high, feathery stalks of the +asparagus-bed, by a row of great sunflowers, now heavy and bent with +their disk-like seed-pods, and by a clump of lilac bushes. As his +eye traveled along the white expanse, he gave a quick start, and his +face clouded with vexation.</p> + +<p>There in the sun, prone upon the top of the fence, dozed the bane of +his life—<i>the Calico Cat</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>Her coat was made up of patches of yellow and white, varied with a +black stocking on her right hind leg, and a large, round, black spot +about her right eye, which gave her a peculiarly predatory and +disreputable appearance. Solomon had disliked her at sight. Ever +since he had bought the house in Ellmington he had been trying to +drive her from the premises, but stay away she would not. Not all +the missiles in existence could convince her that his house was not +a desirable place of abode. And she was a constant vexation and +annoyance.</p> + +<p>She jumped from the fence plump<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> into the middle of newly planted +flower-beds; she filled the haymow with kittens; she asked all her +friends to the barn, where she gave elaborate musical parties at +hours more fashionably late than were tolerated in Ellmington. +Whenever she had indigestion she ate off the tops of the choicest +green things that grew in the garden; but when her appetite was good +she caught and devoured his young chickens.</p> + +<p>Moreover, when at bay she frightened him. Once he had cornered the +spitting creature in a stall. Claws out, tail big, fur all on end, +she had leaped straight at his head, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> he ducked, and, landing +squarely upon it, had steadied herself there for a moment with +sharp, protruding claws; thence she had jumped to a feed-box, thence +to a beam, thence to the mow, from the dusky recesses of which she +had glared at him with big, green, menacing eyes. Not since that +experience, which, in spite of his soft hat, had left certain marks +upon his scalp, had he ever attempted to catch her. Instead, he had +borrowed a gun, and a dozen times had fired at her; but although he +counted himself a fair shot, he had never made even a scant bit of +fur fly from her disreputable back.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>And now he knew she laughed at him. Yes, laughed at him, for she had +more than human intelligence. There was something demoniac in her +cleverness, her immunity from harm, her prodigious energy, her +malevolent mischief, her raillery. Actually, he had grown morbid +about the beast; he had a superstitious feeling that in the end she +would bring him bad luck. How he hated her!</p> + +<p>There she lay, with eyes shut, unsuspecting, comfortable, and +basked in the warm September sunshine. Here at his hand was a +double-barreled shotgun. The chance was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> too good. This vagrant, +this outlaw, this trespasser, this thief—he catalogued her +misdeeds in his mind as he clanged the ramrod down the barrels +to see if the piece was loaded.</p> + +<p>It was not. But ammunition was at hand. He put in a generous charge +from Jim's powder-flask and rammed it home with a paper wad. He +grabbed up the shot-pouch and released the proper charge into his +hand. He was disappointed; it was bird shot. Scattering as it would +scatter, it could do <i>that</i> cat no harm. Nevertheless, he poured the +pellets into the barrel. As he rammed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> home the paper wad on top of +these, his eye caught the marbles lying on the table. He took one +that fitted, and rammed that home also—for luck. He placed a cap, +lifted the gun to his shoulder, and fired.</p> + +<p>With a leap which sent her six feet into the air the Calico Cat +landed four-square in Mr. Peaslee's chicken-yard, almost on the back +of the dignified rooster, which fled with a startled squawk. She +dodged like lightning across the chicken-yard, between cackling and +clattering hens, went up the wire-netting walls, leaped to the roof, +paused, considered, began to reflect that she had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> been shot at +before and to wonder at her own fright, stopped, and, sitting down +on the ridgepole, looked inquiringly in Mr. Peaslee's direction. She +was, of course, entirely unharmed.</p> + +<p>But other matters were claiming Mr. Peaslee's attention. Out +from behind the screen formed by the asparagus plumes, the +currant-bushes, the sunflowers, and the lilacs, all of which +grew not so far from the spot on the fence where the Calico +Cat had been sitting, fell a man!</p> + +<p>Solomon had a mere glimpse. Standing behind taller bushes, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +stranger had fallen behind lower ones, and only while his falling +figure was describing the narrow segment of a circle had he been +visible.</p> + +<p>But the glimpse was enough. Mr. Peaslee's jaw dropped, his face +turned white. But the next moment he gave a great sigh of relief. He +saw the man rise and slip into cover of the bushes, and so disappear +through the orchard. He had not, then, killed the fellow!</p> + +<p>Relieved of that fear, he thought of himself. What would people say +were he charged with firing at a man—he, a respectable citizen, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +director in the bank, a grand juror? They must not know!</p> + +<p>He silently laid the gun back against the window-sill, turned with +infinite care, and tiptoed quickly back into the sitting-room, into +the hall, into the street.</p> + +<p>Not a soul was visible. Nevertheless, such was Mr. Peaslee's +agitation, so strongly did he feel the need of silence, that, +placing a shaking hand upon the fence to steady himself, he tiptoed +along the sidewalk all the way to his own house. There the fear of +his wife struck him. He was in no condition to meet that sharp-eyed, +quick-tongued lady!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>He softly entered the front door and penetrated to the dark parlor, +where, as no one would ever enter it except for a funeral or a +wedding, he felt safe from intrusion. There he sank down upon the +slippery horsehair lounge, and, staring helplessly at the severe +portrait of Mrs. Peaslee, done by a lugubrious artist in crayon, +wiped the sweat from his forehead and tried to collect his scattered +faculties.</p> + +<p>"Whew!" he breathed. "Whew!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/chap_2.jpg" title="Cat licking paw." height="221" width="232" alt="Cat licking paw." /></div> + + +<h2>II</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">M</span><span class="smcap">eanwhile</span>, at the Edwards house, life had grown suddenly +interesting.</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em;">When the report of the gun reached Jim, he had stopped pawing over +the apple barrel, and was sitting on the upper step of the staircase +at the extreme end of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> loft, slowly munching an apple and +thinking.</p> + +<p>Jim was a healthy, active boy, with no more sense than naturally +belongs to a boy of fifteen, and with a lively imagination, which +had been most unfortunately overstimulated. Without a mother, and +with a father who paid him scant attention, he read whatever he +liked, and as a result, his head was full of romantic road-agents +delightfully kind to little crippled daughters at home, fierce +pirates who supported aged and respectable mothers, and considerate +bandits who restored valuable watches when told that they were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +prized on account of tender associations.</p> + +<p>His imagination had been still further fed by certain local legends +and happenings, highly colored enough to excite the keenest +interest. Ellmington is, as has been said, near the Canadian border. +The place abounds in tales of smuggling, and the popular gossip, as +gossip everywhere has a pleasing way of doing, associates the names +of the most respectable and unlikely people with the disreputable +ventures of the smugglers.</p> + +<p>Of course a story of contraband trade is the more striking if the +nar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>rator can hint that the judge of probate or the most stern of +village deacons might tell a good deal if he were disposed, and +there are always persons ready to give this sort of interest to +their "yarns."</p> + +<p>In Ellmington lived Jake Farnum, an ex-deputy marshal and an +incorrigible liar, about whom gathered the boys, Jim among them, to +hear exciting stories of chase and detection, exactly as boys in a +seaport town gather about an old sailor to hear tales of pirates and +buccaneers. And Jake loved to hint darkly that the best people +shared in the illicit traffic.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>With it all, Jim's sense of right and wrong was in a fair way to +become hopelessly "mixed." Exactly as boys at the seashore are prone +to believe that a pirate is, on the whole, an admirable character, +so these border boys, and especially Jim, had come to feel—only +with more excuse, because of the generally indulgent view of the +community—that smuggling is an occupation in which any one may +engage with credit, and which is much more interesting than most.</p> + +<p>Now it is not likely that Jim's father, a stern, secretive, +obviously prosperous man, with an intermit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>tent business which took +him back and forth across the border, could in all this gossip +escape a touch of suspicion. No one, of course, denied that he +really did deal in lumber and cattle; the fact was obvious. But +there were hints and whispers, shrewd shakings of the head, and more +than one "guessed" that all Edwards's profits "didn't come from +cattle, no, nor lumber, neither."</p> + +<p>Latterly these whispers had become more definite. Pete Lamoury, a +French-Canadian, whom Mr. Edwards had hired as a drover, and +abruptly discharged, was spreading stories about his former +employer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> which made Blackbeard, the pirate, seem like a babe by +comparison. Pete was not a very credible witness; but still, +building upon a suspicion that already existed, he succeeded in +adding something to its substantiality.</p> + +<p>These stories had come to Jim's ears, and Jim was delighted. The +consideration that, were the stories true, his father was a criminal +did not occur to him at all. Like the foolish, romantic boy he was, +he was simply pleased to think of his father as a man of iron +determination, cool wit, unshakable courage, whom no deputy sheriff +could over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>-match, and who was leading a life full of excitement and +danger—the smuggler king! The only thing that Jim regretted was +that his father did not let him share in these exploits. He knew he +could be useful! But his father's manner was habitually so +forbidding that Jim did not dare hint a knowledge of these probable +undertakings, much less any desire to share them.</p> + +<p>Poor Mr. Edwards! He loved his boy, but did not in the least know +how to show it. Silent, with a sternness of demeanor which he was +unable wholly to lay aside even in his friendliest moments, much +away<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> from home, and unable to meet the boy on his own level when he +was there, deprived of the wife who might have been his interpreter, +he had no way of becoming acquainted with his son. Anxious in some +way to share in Jim's life, he took the clumsy and mistaken method +of letting him have too much pocket-money.</p> + +<p>Yet if Jim, thus unguided and overindulged, had gone astray in his +conduct, Mr. Edwards was not the man to know his mistake and take +the blame. He had in him a rigidity of moral judgment, a dryness of +mind which made it certain that if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> Jim did do what he disapproved, +he would visit upon him a punishment at once severe and +unsympathetic. The man's air of cold strength excited in the son +fear as well as admiration; his reserve kept his naturally +affectionate boy at more than arm's length. Poor Mr. Edwards! Poor +Jim! Misunderstanding between them was as sure to occur as the rise +of to-morrow's sun.</p> + +<p>Pat on Jim's speculations about his father's stirring deeds, the +gunshot came echoing through the silent barn. Jim ran to the loft +door and looked out. He saw smoke curling up from the window of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +"den," and knew that it was his own gun that had been fired. Back in +the room, a vague masculine figure moved hastily out of the door. +Jim looked toward the orchard, and caught sight of another man +disappearing in the trees. He was wild with excitement. As he knew +that his father was the only person in the house, he was sure that +his father had fired the shot.</p> + +<p>The tales that he had heard, his belief in his father's life of +adventure, made him conclude that here was some smuggler's quarrel. +So vividly did the notion take possession of his inflamed +imagination that nothing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> henceforth could shake it. He simply +<i>knew</i> what had happened.</p> + +<p>And his father had fled, leaving all the evidences of his shot +behind him! Jim's loyal heart bounded; here he could help. He +turned, raced across the loft, clattered down the steep, cobwebby +stairs, slipped through the shed passage, through the kitchen, and +on into his own room.</p> + +<p>He knew what to do. Nothing must show that the gun had ever been +used! He set feverishly to work. He swabbed out the weapon, and hung +it on its rack over the mantel. He tossed the rags into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +fireplace and covered them with ashes. He put the shot-pouch and the +powder-flask into their proper drawer. Then he pulled a chair to the +table and set himself to a pretended study of Cæsar. If any one +should come, it would look as if he had been quietly studying all +the morning.</p> + +<p>All this had cost considerable self-denial; for of course he boiled +with curiosity about the man in the orchard. He did not dare to go +out there, but now, stealthily glancing out of the window, he saw +his father returning from the garden with long strides. Jim +understood. His<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> father, going out at the front door, had slipped +round to the side of the house, so that it would look as if he had +come from the street.</p> + +<p>He was not surprised that his father looked stern and angry. That +fellow must have done something mighty mean, he thought, to make his +father shoot; and he admired at once the magnanimity and the skill +which had merely winged the man, as he supposed, by way, presumably, +of teaching him a lesson. Then, struck by the boldness and openness +of his father's return to the house, Jim suddenly felt that he had +been foolish; that the cleaning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> of the gun had not been needed. +What man would dare, after such a lesson, to complain against his +father!</p> + +<p>Mr. Edwards walked straight into Jim's room. Aroused from his nap by +the shot, he had leaped to the window and seen the man fall. He had +then turned and run downstairs so quickly that he had not seen the +fellow half-rise and crawl into the bushes; and, having reached the +spot, he was much relieved, if somewhat staggered, to find no body. +He did find tracks, for this was plowed ground; but they told him +nothing of the wounded man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> except that he had left in a hurry on a +pair of rather large feet.</p> + +<p>He looked about for a while, and then started toward the house, +determined to have an explanation with Jim. He knew Jim's gun by the +sound of its report, and felt no doubt that the boy had fired the +shot. What sort of culpable accident had happened?</p> + +<p>Suffering still with the splitting headache which he had been trying +to sleep off, angry with Jim for his carelessness, concerned lest +the man were really injured, Mr. Edwards was in his least +compromising mood.</p> + +<p>"How did it happen?" he asked,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> without preface. His tones were +harsh, and he fixed Jim with stern eyes.</p> + +<p>"How did it happen!" repeated Jim, in pure surprise. Certainly his +father knew much better than he how it had happened.</p> + +<p>"Speak out!" said Mr. Edwards, impatiently. "How did you come to +shoot that man? I want to know about it."</p> + +<p>"Me!" cried Jim, in complete bewilderment. "I—I haven't shot any +man, father! You know I haven't."</p> + +<p>Mr. Edwards, never a man of nice observation, and now bewil<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>dered +with anger and headache, took his son's genuine astonishment for +mere pretense and subterfuge. Were not the facts plain?</p> + +<p>"I don't want any nonsense about this," he said incisively. "I heard +your gun. I saw the man fall. No one else but you could possibly +have fired it. It's useless to lie, and I won't stand it. Tell me at +once what happened."</p> + +<p>"I didn't shoot him, father. You <i>know</i> I didn't!" reiterated Jim, +more and more dumfounded. "I don't know how it happened, honest +Injun—I don't, father!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Edwards's mouth shut tight.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> He swept the room with his eyes +until they rested upon the gun in the rack over the mantelpiece.</p> + +<p>He stepped forward, took it down, and examined it. Holding it in his +hands, he gazed about the floor. A rag which the ashes in the +fireplace had not wholly covered caught his attention.</p> + +<p>"You cleaned the gun and put it away," he said grimly. "Then you +tried to hide the rag with which you cleaned it," and he touched the +bit of cloth sticking from the ashes contemptuously with his foot. +"What do you expect me to think from that?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>Jim was silent. The boy was unlike his father in many ways, but they +were alike in this: they both were proud. Each would meet an unjust +accusation in silence. And Jim was beginning to show another of his +father's characteristics. A still anger was beginning to burn in him +against this man who accused him of a deed which he himself had +done, and he felt rising within him a stubborn will to endure, not +to surrender. If his father was going to act like that, why, let +him—</p> + +<p>"Where is your shot-pouch?" asked Mr. Edwards.</p> + +<p>Jim motioned toward the drawer.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>"Is your powder-flask there, too?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Mr. Edwards was silent After all, he was a just man. He was trying, +as well as his headache would let him, to see things straight.</p> + +<p>"It's plain what happened," he said at last. "You had an accident +and got frightened. You cleaned your gun, you hid the rags, you put +away your ammunition, you got your books and pretended to study. +You're afraid to tell the truth now."</p> + +<p>Jim's face flushed hotly, but he kept silent. Such assurance, such +cruelty, he had never imagined. If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> this was what smugglers were +like—if this was a sample of their tricks—</p> + +<p>"I'll give you one more chance to tell the truth," said Mr. Edwards. +"Did you do it?"</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't!" said Jim, and his jaw snapped close like his +father's.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Mr. Edwards. "I'll leave you until you change your +mind. You will stay here. Sarah will bring you bread and milk at +supper-time. If you're willing to talk to me then, you may tell her +that you'd like to see me."</p> + +<p>He turned to go, then paused.</p> + +<p>"It's a serious matter; and all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> the facts are against you. It would +go hard with you in court. It will go harder if you stick to your +stubborn and foolish lie. One thing more: if you don't choose to +tell the truth, you will have to reckon with the law as well as with +me."</p> + +<p>Mr. Edwards, upon this, shut the door and departed. His was a stern +figure, but the hurt within was very sore. This, then, he reflected +bitterly, was the kind of boy he had. He suffered deeply at the +discovery, which for him was unquestionable.</p> + +<p>Jim felt outraged. He had done his loyal best to save his father +from the consequences of his rash<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> act, and now, with incredible +ingenuity and cool injustice, his father was using his son's acts of +helpfulness to make it appear that he had done the deed. Without a +scruple, his father had made him a scapegoat.</p> + +<p>Jim told himself that he would gladly have taken the blame had his +father, as chief of the band, demanded the sacrifice of this, his +devoted follower. Nay, more, he would have endured the ordeal +without a murmur had his father, deeming it unsafe to enter into +formal explanations, only hinted to him that this was a farce which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +they two must play together. If his father had only winked at him! +Surely he might have done that with safety! But not to be admitted +to the secret,—not to be allowed to play the heroic part,—to be +used as an ignoble tool by a father who neither loved him nor knew +his courage,—that was too much! He would not betray his father—no, +a thousand times, no! But the day would come—</p> + +<p>The afternoon dragged on. Jim sat there in his room, looking out +into the pleasant sunshine, conscious that the boys were playing +"three old cat" in the field not faraway<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>—as rebellious and +magnanimous, as hot and angry, as heroic and morally muddled a boy +as one could wish to see. And looking at the affair from his point +of view, not many people will blame him. It is delightful, of +course, to have a pirate chief for father; but what if he makes you +walk the plank?</p> + +<p>It is amusing to think of Mr. Peaslee and Jim each shut up in his +respective room; but if Mr. Peaslee in his gloomy parlor—faced by +the crayon portrait of his masterful wife, a vase of wax flowers +under a glass dome, the family Bible on a marble-topped table, and +three stiff horse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>hair-covered chairs—had the advantage of being +able to leave at any moment, he was even more perturbed in mind.</p> + +<p>"Terrible awk'ard mess," he kept repeating to himself, as he mopped +his damp forehead with his handkerchief, "terrible awk'ard." And +indeed it would be awkward for a respectable citizen with political +aspirations to be accused before a grand jury of which he is a +member of assault with a dangerous weapon upon an inoffensive man.</p> + +<p>Mr. Peaslee's reflections rose in a strophe of hope and fell in an +antistrophe of despair.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>"'T ain't likely it hurt him any—just bird shot," said Hope.</p> + +<p>"Bird shot's mighty irritatin'—specially to a wrathy fellow," said +Despair.</p> + +<p>And alternating thus, his thoughts ran on: "Bird shot'll show I +didn't have any serious <i>in</i>tent; but mebbe a piece of the marble +struck him. He went off mighty lively; don't seem as if he'd been +hurt <i>much</i>; more scared hurt, likely. But he might have been hurt +bad, arm or suthin', mebbe. Marble! 'T ain't anythin' but baked +clay; split all to pieces prob'ly—but ye can't tell. I've heard ye +can shoot a taller<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> candle through an inch plank—and that's +consid'able softer than a marble. And that pesky cat's jest as +frisky as ever!"</p> + +<p>Had any one seen him? There certainly had not been any one in the +street, but where had been Mr. Edwards, Jim, the housekeeper? Where +had his own wife been? There were windows from which she might have +seen him returning, some from which she might even have seen him +fire the fatal shot. But pshaw, there now! Probably no one had seen +him at all, not even his wife, not even his victim! Probably no one +would ever find out.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>"Must have been some worthless feller, stealin' apples, mebbe, who +won't dare make a fuss. 'T ain't likely I'll ever hear anythin' of +it. 'T ain't no use sayin' anythin' till suthin' happens. What folks +don't know don't hurt 'em none."</p> + +<p>The structure of comfort which he thus built himself was shaky +indeed, but it had to serve. He nerved himself to meet his wife. He +must not excite her suspicion by too long an absence. She was +doubtless full of curiosity, for of course she had heard the shot, +and would expect him to know what it meant.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>It would not do to seem to enter the house by the front door, sacred +to formal occasions, so, sneaking outdoors again, he slipped round +to the side of the house, and with much trepidation went into the +kitchen.</p> + +<p>His wife began the moment she saw him. "Well, of all the crazy +carryings on!" she cried. "What's the Ed'ards boy firin' off guns +for, right under peaceable folks' windows? I'm goin' to speak to Mr. +Ed'ards right off."</p> + +<p>"Now don't ye, Sarepty, now don't ye!" said Mr. Peaslee, in alarm.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>Relieved as he was to find himself unsuspected, he did not like the +idea of having his wife pick a quarrel with Mr. Edwards for what he +himself had done! The less said about that shot the better he would +be pleased.</p> + +<p>"For the land's sake, why not, I should like to know?"</p> + +<p>"Well, now, Sarepty, I wouldn't. That Ed'ards boy ain't more of a +boy than most boys, I guess. Always seemed a real peaceable little +feller. And Ed'ards is kinder touchy, I guess. It might make hard +feelin'. 'T wouldn't look well for us to speak, bein' newcomers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> so. +I wouldn't, Sarepty, I wouldn't. Mebbe some time I'll slide in a +word, just slide it in kinder easy, if he does it again."</p> + +<p>And Mr. Peaslee looked appealingly at his wife through his big +spectacles, his eyes looking very large and pathetic through the +strong lenses.</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said his wife, unmoved. "I ain't afraid of Ed'ards, if you +be."</p> + +<p>Nor could she be moved from her determination. Mr. Peaslee was +vastly disturbed.</p> + +<p>But presently he forgot this small annoyance in greater ones. That<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +evening after tea, when he went up to the post-office, he heard that +Pete Lamoury had been shot by Jim Edwards, and was now in bed with +his wounds. Jim's arrest was predicted. Young Farnsworth, who kept +the crockery store, told him the news. And presently Jake Hibbard, +the worst "shyster" in the village, shuffled in—noticeable anywhere +for his suit of rusty black, his empty sleeve pinned to his coat, +the green patch over his eye, and his tobacco-stained lips. He +confirmed the report.</p> + +<p>"Pete's hurt bad," he said, shaking his head, "hurt bad. I've taken<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +his case. Young Edwards is going to see trouble."</p> + +<p>The speech frightened poor Mr. Peaslee, and he was hardly reassured +by the skeptical smile of Squire Tucker, and his remark that he +would believe that Lamoury was hurt when he saw him. The squire had +small faith in either Lamoury or Hibbard. He knew them both.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Peaslee returned home with dragging feet. Silent and +preoccupied all the evening, he went to bed early—but not to sleep. +Long he lay awake and tossed, while the Calico Cat wailed on the +rear fence—exultant, triumphant, insulting.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>And when he did finally get to sleep, he dreamed that he was being +prosecuted in court by—was it Jake Hibbard, with the green patch +over his eye, or the Calico Cat, with the black patch over hers? He +could not tell, study the fantastic, ominous figure of his +prosecutor as he would!</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/chap_3.jpg" title="Cat sitting on post looking forward." height="221" width="142" alt="Cat sitting on post looking forward." /></div> + +<h2>III</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap2">I</span><span class="smcap">mmediately</span> after breakfast on Monday morning Mr. Peaslee, in a mood +of desperate self-sacrifice, started up-town to buy a knife—for +Jim!</p> + +<p>All day long on Sunday, when he had nothing to do but think, he had +struggled between his fear of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> exposure and his sorrow for the boy. +The upshot was a determination to "make it up to him" by giving him +a knife. He had in his mind's eye a marvel—stag-horn handle, four +blades, saw, awl, file, hoof-hook, corkscrew! Such a knife as that, +he felt, would console any boy for being arrested. "Most likely 't +will end right there," he said to himself.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'd better go to Farley's," he thought, as he walked along. +"Farley owes money to the bank. He won't dare to stick it on like +the rest."</p> + +<p>But when he entered the store<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> and looked about, his face fell. Mr. +Farley was not there! Willie Potter, Farley's clerk, a young man +peculiarly distasteful to Solomon, lounged forward with a toothpick +in his mouth. Mr. Peaslee had half a mind to go, but the thought of +poor Jim held him back.</p> + +<p>"What will you have to-day, Mr. Peaslee?" inquired Willie, affably. +He winked at young Dannie Snow, who sat grinning on a keg of nails, +as much as to say, "Watch me have some fun with the old man."</p> + +<p>"I thought mebbe I'd look at some jack-knives," said Solomon, eyeing +Willie distrustfully.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>"Yes, sir, I guess you want the best, regardless of expense," said +Willie, impudently. He well understood his customer's dislike for +spending a penny. Stepping behind the counter, he drew from the +show-case and held up admiringly the most costly knife in the store.</p> + +<p>"Here, now, what do you say to this? Very superior article. Best +horn, ten blades, best razor steel. Three-fifty, and cheap at the +price. Can't be beat this side of Boston. Just the article for you, +sir."</p> + +<p>And he winked again at Dannie Snow, who was pink with suppressed +merriment.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>"Well, now, well, now," said Solomon, taking the knife in his hand +and pretending to examine it closely. "That's a pretty knife, to be +sure,—to—be—sure. Real showy, ain't it? Looks as if 't was made +to sell—all outside and no money in the bank, like some young +fellers ye see."</p> + +<p>Dannie Snow giggling outright, Mr. Peaslee turned and gazed at him +in mild inquiry. Young Potter turned a dull red. He was addicted to +radiant cravats and gauzy silk handkerchiefs, and from his "salary" +of eight dollars a week he did not save much.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>But just the same, Mr. Peaslee had been staggered at the price. +Pretending still to examine the knife which Willie had given him, he +squinted past it at the contents of the glass show-case on which his +elbows rested. There all sorts of knives confronted him, each in its +little box, in which was stuck a card stating the price,—$1.50, +$1.25, 90c, 45c. The cheapest one would eat up the proceeds of three +dozen eggs at fifteen cents a dozen—a good price for eggs! He had +forgotten that knives cost so much.</p> + +<p>"A good knife ain't any use to a boy," he reflected. "Break it in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> a +day, lose it in a week. 'T wouldn't be any real kindness to him. +Just wastin' money."</p> + +<p>He pointed finally to a stubby, wooden-handled knife with one big +blade, marked 25c.</p> + +<p>"There, now," said he, "that's what I call a knife. Good and strong, +and no folderol. Guarantee the steel, don't ye?"</p> + +<p>He opened the blade and drew it speculatively across his calloused +old thumb, while with his mild blue eyes, which his spectacles +enormously exaggerated, he fixed the humbled Willie.</p> + +<p>"That's a good knife for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> money," said that young man. +"Hand-forged."</p> + +<p>"Sho now, ye don't say so," said Mr. Peaslee. "I guess ye give a +discount, don't ye? Farley always allows me a little suthin'."</p> + +<p>"You can have it for twenty-one cents," said Willie, much irritated. +"Charge it?"</p> + +<p>"Guess I better pay cash," Mr. Peaslee answered hastily. If it were +charged, his wife would question the item.</p> + +<p>Producing an enormous wallet—very worn and very flat—from his +cavernous pocket, he deliberately searched until he found a +Cana<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>dian ten-cent piece, and adding to it enough to make up the +price, handed it to Potter, and left the store.</p> + +<p>Mr. Peaslee, who remembered no gift from his father other than a +very occasional big copper cent, thought himself pretty generous. +Had he not spent pretty nearly the price of two dozen eggs?</p> + +<p>But now a question occurred to him which he had not thought of +before. How was he to get the knife to Jim? A gift from him would +excite surprise, perhaps suspicion. It must not be known who had +sent it. Ah, there was the post<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> office! Going in, he pushed the +little box through the barred window.</p> + +<p>"Say, Cyrus," he said to the postmaster, "kinder weigh up this +consignment for me, will ye?"</p> + +<p>The postmaster weighed the box.</p> + +<p>"That will cost you six cents," he said.</p> + +<p>"Thank ye," returned Mr. Peaslee, and dropping the box into his deep +pocket, departed. Half a dozen eggs more to get it to his next-door +neighbor!</p> + +<p>"'T ain't right," he muttered, "'t ain't right."</p> + +<p>Uncertain what to do with his gift, but feeling, on the whole, +pretty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> virtuous, Mr. Peaslee now started home. He thought that Jim +would not be going to school, but would wait at home for the +threatened coming of the constable; but still he was not sure, and +he wanted to keep the boy under his eye.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he straightened. There was Judge Ames walking up the +street, valise in hand, just from the early morning train. He had +come a few days before the opening of court. Mr. Peaslee knew him +slightly, and stood much in awe of him. He was greatly pleased when +the judge stopped and shook hands with him.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear, Mr. Peaslee,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> said the judge, in his precise, +lawyer-like utterance, "that you are to be on the grand jury. We +need men like you there."</p> + +<p>"Thank ye, judge, thank ye," said Mr. Peaslee, overcome. And he +walked on home, quite convinced that a person of his importance in +the community should not be sacrificed to the comfort of any small +boy.</p> + +<p>"And I've done right by the little feller, I've done right," he +assured himself, feeling the knife.</p> + +<p>As he turned into his own yard, he cast an anxious eye over to the +Edwards house. There sat Jim,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> elbows on knees, chin on hands, +staring into space. Jim was thinking that his father, had he been a +pirate chief, would not have wiped a filial tear from his eye +whenever he thought of his mother; and the boy's face showed it. The +spectacle greatly depressed Mr. Peaslee. The smallest, faintest +question entered his mind whether a twenty-five-cent knife would +console such melancholy.</p> + +<p>To give himself a countenance while he watched events, Solomon got a +rake and began gathering together the few autumn leaves which had +fluttered down in his front yard.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> It was not useless labor, for +they would "come in handy" later in "banking up" the house.</p> + +<p>And so, presently, he saw Sam Barton, the constable, his big +shoulders rolling as he walked, advancing down the street. Mr. +Peaslee expected him; nevertheless his appearance gave him a +disagreeable shock. Suppose the constable had been coming for him!</p> + +<p>"Ain't arrestin' anybody down this way, be ye?" he called, with a +feeble attempt at jocularity. Perhaps, after all—</p> + +<p>"Looks like it," said Barton, succinctly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>Mr. Peaslee stepped to the fence. "'T aint likely they'll do much to +a leetle feller like that, I guess," he said, searching the +constable's face.</p> + +<p>"Dunno," said Barton, passing on.</p> + +<p>Solomon, much concerned, leaned on his rake and watched him enter +the Edwards house. Jim had disappeared; there was some delay.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Peaslee came to the door.</p> + +<p>"Arrestin' that Ed'ards boy, be they, Solomon?" she said. "Well, +serve him right, <i>I</i> say, shootin' guns off so. Like father, like +son. <i>I</i> dunno as <i>'t was</i> the son. I'd as soon believe it of the +father. Everybody<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> knows Lamoury and he's been mixed up together. +Some of his smugglin' tricks, prob'ly."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Peaslee had taken a violent dislike to her taciturn neighbor, +and she did not care who knew it. Her shrill voice seemed to her +husband painfully loud, and, indeed, it was beginning to attract the +attention of the group of children who had gathered about the +Edwards gate.</p> + +<p>"Sh!" hissed Solomon. "Ed'ards might hear ye. 'T would hurt us if he +should take his account out of the bank."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" exclaimed Mrs. Peaslee. "Well," she added, "you go<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> to the +hearin'. Justice is suthin', I guess."</p> + +<p>But she said no more, and with her husband and the children awaited +events—a silent group in the silent street before the silent house. +The children's eyes grew bigger and bigger with excitement. Was not +Jimmy Edwards going to be arrested for mur-r-rder? the horrid +whisper ran. One small boy, beginning to whimper, asked if Jimmy was +"going to be hung."</p> + +<p>The occasion was solemn even to the older eyes of Mr. Peaslee. +"S'posin' it was me," he said to himself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + +<p>Presently Mr. Edwards, Jim, and the constable emerged from the +house. Jim looked white and frightened, but was bravely trying to +bear himself like a man. Mr. Edwards, his long, shaven upper lip +stiff as a board, looked stern and uncompromising. Barton was as big +and good-humored as ever.</p> + +<p>He turned upon the little boys and girls, and, waving his arm, +cried, "Scat!" They fell back—about ten feet. Thus the procession +formed: Barton and Jim, then Mr. Edwards, and—at a barely +respectful distance—the crowd of youngsters.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>Mr. Peaslee, much moved, but trying hard not to show it, thrust his +rake under the veranda with a great show of care, and joined Mr. +Edwards—much to that gentleman's surprise. Solomon's heart was +throbbing with a great resolution.</p> + +<p>"I always aim to be neighborly," said he, nervously lowering his +voice, for he was conscious of his wife, still standing on the +veranda. "Thought I'd just step along, too. I cal'late mebbe you'd +like comp'ny on his bail bond," and he jerked his thumb toward Jim.</p> + +<p>It was out; he was committed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> and Solomon heaved a great sigh, he +knew not whether of relief or dismay. There was not indeed any risk +in signing with Edwards, who was "good" for any bail that the +justice was likely to require; but what would Mrs. Peaslee say if +she knew! He glanced apprehensively toward the house.</p> + +<p>His wife had gone in; but, evil omen! there, sitting on a +fence-post, was the Calico Cat. She was placidly washing her face; +and as her paw twinkled past the big black spot round her right eye, +she appeared, at that distance, to be greeting him with a derisive +wink.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>Mr. Edwards, although his mouth shut tighter than ever at the +mention of bail, was surprised and touched. "Thank you," he said. +"It's kind of you to think of it."</p> + +<p>In the village, Sam ushered them into the musty law office of Squire +Tucker, justice of the peace. The squire was a large, fat man, +clothed in rusty black, with a carelessly knotted string tie pendent +beneath a rumpled turn-down collar. He had a smooth-shaven, fat +face, lighted by shrewd and kindly eyes, which gleamed at you now +through, now over, his glasses. When the party entered he was +writing, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> merely looked up under his big eyebrows long enough to +wave them all to chairs.</p> + +<p>Jim sat down, with the constable behind him and his father at his +left, and studied the man in whose hands he thought that his fate +rested. He watched the squire's pen go from paper to ink, ink to +paper, and listened to its scratch, scratch, and to the buzz of a +big fly against the dirty window-pane. Ashamed to look at any one, +he looked at the lawyer's big ink-well—a great, circular affair of +mottled brown wood. It had several openings, each one with its own +little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> cork attached with a short string to the side of the stand. +He had never seen one like it before.</p> + +<p>Then some one entered the room. Jim, looking sidewise, recognized +Jake Hibbard, and began covertly to study his face. He knew that +this flabby-faced, dirty man, with the little screwed-up eyes, and +the big screwed-up mouth, stained brown at the corners with tobacco, +was Pete Lamoury's lawyer. Familiar for many years to his +contemptuous young eyes, Jake now looked sinister and dangerous. +What were these men going to do to him?</p> + +<p>Amid his fluttering emotions and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> rushing thoughts one thing only +stood fixed and clear: he would not tell on his father. Some day, +when all trouble was past, he would let his father know that he knew +all the time. Then he guessed his father would be sorry and ashamed. +Now, since his father would not take him into his confidence, he +would not pretend he did the shooting. That would be his only +revenge.</p> + +<p>Finally, Squire Tucker, pushing his writing aside, ran his fingers +through the great mass of his tumbled gray hair, and looked +quizzically at Jim over his glasses. "So this," he said, "is the +hardened ruf<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>fian of whom our esteemed fellow citizen, Mr. Lamoury, +complains?"</p> + +<p>And indeed Jim, although stubborn, did not seem very dangerous.</p> + +<p>The squire looked about the room.</p> + +<p>"Is he represented by counsel?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No, I represent him," said Mr. Edwards.</p> + +<p>"The charge against him is assault with intent to kill, I believe?" +and he looked with demure inquiry at Jake Hibbard, who nodded with a +wrath-clouded face. Tucker was not taking the case seriously.</p> + +<p>"Well, young man," said the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> justice to Jim, "what's your +explanation of this?"</p> + +<p>"We'll waive examination," said Mr. Edwards, briefly.</p> + +<p>The squire leaned back in his chair. "I suppose," he said, with +evident reluctance, "I shall have to hold him for the grand jury. +But I guess the safety of the community won't be greatly threatened +if I let him out on bail. I should think a couple of hundred would +do. I suppose there'll be no difficulty about the bond?"</p> + +<p>The tone of the proceedings suited Mr. Peaslee well. In his +nervousness and abstraction he had backed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> up to the rusty, empty +iron stove at the end of the room, and stood there, with spread +coat-tails, listening intently. On hearing the amount of bail, he +gave a sigh of relief. His incautious offer had brought him no +dangerous risk.</p> + +<p>Mr. Edwards, however, did not answer. Instead, consulting the +justice with a look, he turned and beckoned Jim to follow him into +the hall.</p> + +<p>"James," he said, "this is the last chance I shall give you. If you +confess to me, I will see that you have proper bail. If you do not, +I shall let the law take its course. You may choose."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>Jim was exasperated. If his father wished to be mean, let him <i>be</i> +mean; at least he might drop this farce, this irritating pretense. +He lost his temper.</p> + +<p>"I don't care what you do!" he said fiercely. "Send me to jail if +you want to. I guess I can stand it!"</p> + +<p>"Is that all you have to say?"</p> + +<p>Jim replied with a rebellious glance.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said his father. "Then we will go back." Once in the +room, he stepped to the squire's desk, and talked with him in low +tones.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>Then the justice turned to Jim again, a new gravity in his jolly +face.</p> + +<p>"Your father," he said, "refuses to go on your bond. Have you any +sureties of your own to offer?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said Jim.</p> + +<p>Mr. Peaslee was outraged. What kind of a father was this! He half +started forward to offer to be one of the two sureties which the law +required, but—no, he dare not. The second surety might prove to be +any sort of worthless fellow. But Jim in jail! He had not for a +moment dreamed of that. He was very indignant with Mr. Edwards.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>Meanwhile, Jake Hibbard was studying Mr. Edwards's face with puzzled +attention. He had supposed that the lumber dealer, whom he knew to +be well-to-do, would have paid anything, signed any bond, to protect +his boy from jail. He was disconcerted. He drew his one hand across +his mouth nervously.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Barton," said Squire Tucker, "I don't see but what you'll +have to take this young man over to Hotel Calkins."</p> + +<p>"Hotel Calkins" was the name which local wit gave to the county +jail. The words sent a cold shiver down Mr. Peaslee's back. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +stung him into generosity. As Barton and his prisoner, followed by +Mr. Edwards and Jake, brushed by him on their way to the door, he +slipped the knife into Jim's hand. When the boy, trying to keep back +the tears, looked up inquiringly, he murmured, in agitation:—</p> + +<p>"Don't ye care, sonny! Now don't ye care!"</p> + +<p>He was greatly stirred—or he would not have been so incautious as +to make his present in person and in public.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/chap_4.jpg" title="Cat lying on fence." height="263" width="190" alt="Cat lying on fence." /></div> + + +<h2>IV</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">W</span><span class="smcap">hen</span> Nancy Ware, Jim's pretty teacher, heard that Mr. Edwards had +let Jim go to jail, she was hotly indignant. She liked Jim, and +laughed a little over him, for she knew he adored her. In her view +he was a clumsy, nice boy; awkward and shy, to be sure, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +rewarding her friendliness now and then with a really entrancing +grin. She liked his imagination, she liked his loyalty, and she +liked his dogged resolution.</p> + +<p>She heard the news at the noon hour on Monday, and after her dinner +she hurried at once to the store of Fred Farnsworth. To him she +roundly declared that Mr. Edwards was a brute, a view of the man +which struck Fred as a bit highly colored.</p> + +<p>Fred was thirty-one or thirty-two years old, a sensible, humorous +fellow, with considerable personal force. He was very proud of the +handsome<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> shop over which hung the sign, "Frederick W. Farnsworth, +Fine Crockery and Glassware," and still prouder of his engagement to +Miss Ware. He was the second grand juryman from Ellmington.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said he, "Edwards isn't a bad sort of man. He isn't very +sociable. I guess he wouldn't take much impudence, even from that +boy of his. They say Jim wouldn't own up, and the old man won't do +anything for him till he does."</p> + +<p>"If Jimmie Edwards says he didn't fire that gun, he didn't," said +Nancy, positively. "Jimmie isn't the lying kind. I know Mr. +Ed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>wards. I ought not to call him a brute, I suppose. But he's one +of these obstinate men who will do anything they've made up their +minds to do, even if you prove to them that they're wrong, even if +it hurts them more than it does any one else. He's just got it into +his head that Jimmie ought to confess, and he'd let him go to the +gallows before he'd back down."</p> + +<p>Nancy spoke with animation, her color rose and her eyes grew bright, +and Fred looked and listened admiringly. He was skeptical about Jim, +but he was struck with the accuracy of the portrait of Edwards.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>"I guess that's about so," he said.</p> + +<p>"And when I think of that poor boy shut up in that awful jail, +locked into a cell, when he ought to be out-of-doors playing ball +and having a good time, it makes my blood boil!" continued Miss +Ware. "Now, Fred," she concluded, with pretty decision, "you must +stop it."</p> + +<p>Fred laughed.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that a pretty large order?" he asked. "Squire Tucker put him +there. I guess it's legal."</p> + +<p>"You can do <i>something</i>," said his betrothed. "Go to see Jimmie. See +if you can't find out what's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> the matter. Jimmie likes you, perhaps +he'll tell."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know Jim had any particular partiality for me," said Fred, +but he felt kindlier toward the boy in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>"If you can only find out what really happened, I know we can get +him out," averred Miss Ware.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you go yourself?" said Farnsworth.</p> + +<p>"I can't,—not till five o'clock. Of course I'm going then!"</p> + +<p>"That's about four hours off," said Farnsworth.</p> + +<p>"But I want something done <i>now</i>!" exclaimed Nancy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>"Oh!" said Fred, humorously.</p> + +<p>"Will you go?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. I'll start at once." Fred dropped his banter. "I'll tell +you what, Nancy. I may not be able to do much right off, but I'll +promise you that he has a fair chance before the grand jury."</p> + +<p>Farnsworth started at once for the jail. It was a poor place for a +boy, he reflected, as he rang the jailer's private bell. Calkins +himself was not there, and his wife came to the door. She knew +Farnsworth; and when he asked if he might see Jim she laughed a +little, and told him to "step right in."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>"Hotel Calkins" was a brick building which looked pleasantly like a +private dwelling, as, in fact, a good half of it was. In this front +half dwelt the jailer; in the rear half, separated from the living +quarters by a thick wall and heavy doors, was the jail proper. There +Farnsworth expected to be led.</p> + +<p>But not at all! Mrs. Calkins ushered him into her own kitchen, where +a wash-tub showed what she was doing, where the afternoon sun and +sweet September air poured in at the open windows, and where a +canary in its cage was singing cheerily.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>Here Farnsworth was much surprised to see Jim, curled up in Mrs. +Calkins's own rocking-chair, eating a large red-cheeked apple which +he was dividing with a brand-new knife!</p> + +<p>"Squire Tucker told Mark," said Mrs. Calkins, enjoying the joke, +"that he guessed James would like our society full as well as that +of the prisoners."</p> + +<p>As for Jim, he grinned affably, and took another slice of his apple.</p> + +<p>The awful picture which Miss Ware had drawn of Jim's dreadful +isolation and misery and her own indignant sympathy rushed upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +Farnsworth's mind, and were so comically out of relation with the +facts that he sank weakly into the nearest chair and roared.</p> + +<p>"This—is—the way—you go to jail—is it?" he gasped.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Calkins smiled in sympathy, and Jim, half-suspecting that he +ought to be offended at this frank mirth, looked sheepishly at the +floor.</p> + +<p>Farnsworth recovered himself. "A mighty good friend of yours," he +said, "sent me over here."</p> + +<p>"Miss Ware?" asked Jim, much pleased.</p> + +<p>"Yes. She's coming herself right after school, loaded down with +things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> to console your desolate prison life, I believe," and +Farnsworth had to stop to laugh again. "But she wanted me to start +right in and help you out of this, and that's what I'm here for."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Jim, embarrassed, but polite. But it struck +Farnsworth, as he said afterward, that the boy "shied" a little.</p> + +<p>"Miss Ware says," he went on, "that she doesn't believe you fired +that shot, and she wants you to tell me exactly what did happen. Now +if we can show that you didn't shoot, I can get you out of here +quick."</p> + +<p>"What they going to do to me?" said Jim.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>"That depends. It makes a difference how much Lamoury's hurt. The +penalty might be severe if he's got a bad wound. But even then, if +we could show that you didn't know he was there, or that the gun +went off by accident, or that you were firing at something else, it +would make a big difference. And if you can show that you weren't +there at all—why, out you go, scot-free. But, Jim, you can see +yourself that if you don't tell what you know, everybody'll think +that you shot and meant to hurt Lamoury, and then it might go pretty +hard with you. Now come, tell me what happened."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>"You'd better tell, Jimmie," said Mrs. Calkins, straightening up +from her wash-tub. "You won't find any better friends than Mr. +Farnsworth and Miss Ware."</p> + +<p>The young man, as he talked, watched the boy curiously. Jim flushed +and squirmed, and looked now at the floor and now out at the window, +with a marked uneasiness and embarrassment that greatly puzzled his +friend. And when he stopped, and the boy had to answer, his distress +became really pitiable.</p> + +<p>"Can't you tell me, Jim?" Mr. Farnsworth hazarded, after a little, +putting a kindly hand on the boy's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> arm, while Mrs. Calkins stood +quiet by her tub in friendly expectation.</p> + +<p>But Jim remained dumb.</p> + +<p>After waiting a little, Farnsworth, seeing the boy so miserable, +took pity on him.</p> + +<p>"Well, never mind, Jim," he said. "You needn't tell if you don't +want to."</p> + +<p>He would have to let Nancy coax it out of him. But he was puzzled, +impressed with a sense of mystery and with a growing conviction that +the boy was shielding some one else. He began to talk cheerfully of +other things, hoping that Jim might perhaps drop a useful hint, or, +at least,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> that the boy would gain confidence in him as a friend. By +chance he asked:—</p> + +<p>"Where did you get the knife, Jim?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Peaslee gave it to me."</p> + +<p>"Peaslee!" exclaimed Farnsworth. He well knew the "closeness" of his +fellow juror.</p> + +<p>"It isn't much of a knife," said Jim, apologetic but pleased. Jim's +views of the world were changing: his father, although a bandit +chief, had let him go to jail, while this stingy old man, with no +halo of adventure about him, gave him a knife; and here were Miss +Ware and Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> Farnsworth and Mrs. Calkins and the jailer, none of +them smugglers, who were very kind.</p> + +<p>Farnsworth rose to go. Then Jim, summoning all his courage, asked a +question which had long been trembling on his lips.</p> + +<p>"What do they do to smugglers, Mr. Farnsworth?"</p> + +<p>"Fine 'em, or put 'em in jail, or both. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing much," said Jim, but obviously he was cast down.</p> + +<p>Farnsworth walked thoughtfully toward his store. "By George!" he +thought suddenly. "I wonder—"</p> + +<p>The gossip about the senior Ed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>wards had occurred to him, and at the +same time he remembered the quarrel with Lamoury.</p> + +<p>"But what nonsense!" he thought. "If Edwards wanted to shoot any one +he wouldn't do it in his own back yard, and he wouldn't treat his +own boy that way, either." Still, the idea clung to him.</p> + +<p>And then he thought of Nancy, and chuckled. "If she comes to the +store before she goes to the jail I won't tell her what she'll find +there," he promised himself.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Mr. Peaslee felt a growing discomfort. He ate his dinner +and answered the brisk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> questions of his wife with increasing +preoccupation. Like Miss Ware, he was picturing Jim solitary and +suffering in his lonely cell. With the utmost sincerity and +ingenuousness he condemned Mr. Edwards.</p> + +<p>"Hain't he got any feelin' for his own flesh and blood?" he asked +himself. "'T ain't right; somebody'd ought to deal with him."</p> + +<p>As he pottered about his yard after dinner, he finally worked +himself up to the point of speaking to Edwards himself.</p> + +<p>Even his righteous indignation would not have led him to this +undertaking had he known Mr. Ed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>wards better, or realized the +father's present mood. Hurt exceedingly by Jim's lying and contempt +of his wishes, hurt even more through his disappointed desire to +help his boy, Mr. Edwards was sore and sensitive, discontented both +with Jim and with himself. He did not want Jim in jail, he told +himself; and the neighbors who were so uniformly assuming that he +did might better give their thoughts to matters that concerned them +more. He would get the boy out of jail quick enough if the boy would +only let him.</p> + +<p>As he stepped out of the house to do an errand at the barn, Mr. +Peaslee<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> hailed him over the dividing fence. Somewhat put out, Mr. +Edwards nevertheless turned and walked toward his neighbor. Mr. +Peaslee, leaning over the fence, began.</p> + +<p>"Ed'ards," he said, reaching out an anxious, deprecatory hand, +"don't ye think you're jest a leetle mite hard on that boy o' +yourn—"</p> + +<p>He got no further. Edwards gave him a look that made him shiver, and +cut the conversation short by turning on his heel and marching +toward the barn.</p> + +<p>"Dretful ha'sh man, dretful ha'sh!" Mr. Peaslee muttered to himself. +"Nice, likely boy as ever was. If I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> had a boy like that, I swan I +wouldn't treat him so con-sarned mean!"</p> + +<p>He turned away much shocked, and saw the Calico Cat watching him +ironically from the chicken-house. "Drat that cat!" said he. "I +ain't goin' to stay round here—not with that beast grinning at me."</p> + +<p>He got his hat and started up-town, not knowing in the least what he +intended to do there. He stopped, however, at every shop window and +studied baseballs, bats, tivoli-boards, accordions. He was beginning +to wonder if a twenty-five-cent knife was enough to console Jim for +his unmerited incarceration.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> + +<p>He was gazing forlornly in at the window of Upham's drugstore, where +some half-dozen harmonicas were displayed, and wondering if Jim +would be allowed to play one in his dungeon cell, when Hibbard spoke +to him.</p> + +<p>He drew the lawyer aside, and, peering closely into his face with +anxious eyes exaggerated by his spectacles, said insinuatingly:—</p> + +<p>"Jest 'twixt you and me kinder confidential, Pete ain't hurt bad, is +he? You don't mind sayin', do ye?"</p> + +<p>Jake drew himself up, surprised and suspicious. Did the old fool +think him as innocent as all that?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>"He's hurt bad, Mr. Peaslee, bad," he said, with dignity. "Of course +it isn't fatal—unless it should mortify." He waved his hand +deprecatingly. "I can't imagine what that Edwards boy used in his +gun."</p> + +<p>Mr. Peaslee knew: the marble! He trembled. Still, he knew Jake's +reputation. A shrewd thought visited his troubled mind.</p> + +<p>"What doctor's seein' him?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Doctor!" exclaimed Hibbard, irritated. "Doctor! You know these +French Canadians. They're worse scared of a doctor than of the evil +one himself. Pete's usin' some old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> woman's stuff on his +wounds,—bear's grease, rattlesnake oil, catnip tea,—what do I +know? I can't make him see a doctor."</p> + +<p>"Some doctor'll have to testify to court, won't they?" persisted Mr. +Peaslee.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll look out for that, don't you fear!" the lawyer said +easily; but nevertheless he made a pretext for leaving the old man.</p> + +<p>Perhaps had Mr. Peaslee's fears not been so keen, he would have +taken some comfort from this conversation; but as it was he felt +that the lawyer was dangerous; he feared that Pete really was badly +hurt. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> would go hard, then, with Jim. It would, by the same +token, go hard with himself should he confess.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he turned and rushed into Upham's store.</p> + +<p>"Upham," said he, "I want <i>that</i>!"</p> + +<p>And he pointed straight at a big harmonica with a strange and +wonderful "harp attachment"—bright-colored and of amazing +possibilities.</p> + +<p>Upham, a neat little gentleman with nicely trimmed side-whiskers, +who was always fluttered by the unexpected, hesitated, half opened +his mouth, and then forgot either to shut it or to speak.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Peaslee," he stam<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>mered at last, "it's real expensive! +You—it's two dollars and seventy-five cents."</p> + +<p>"Don't care nothin' what it costs," said Mr. Peaslee, who was in a +hurry for fear lest he should think twice.</p> + +<p>When he came out of the store with the harmonica in his hands, he +almost stumbled into Miss Ware. She was on her way to Jim, and, of +course, her mind was full of his affairs. Here was Mr. Edwards's +next neighbor. She impulsively stopped to ask if the misguided +father still held to his resolution about Jim.</p> + +<p>Mr. Peaslee had reason to know that he did, and said so. "I tell +ye,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> Miss Ware," said he, with much emotion, "he belongs to a +stony-hearted generation, and that's a fact. He ain't got any +compassion in him, seems though."</p> + +<p>"It's a shame, a perfect shame!" exclaimed Nancy.</p> + +<p>"'T ain't right," said Mr. Peaslee, with a warmth which surprised +the young woman, and made her warm to this old man, whom she had +always thought so selfish. "'T ain't right—your own flesh and blood +so."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Miss Ware, "I'm going to the jail now. I want to see +Jimmie. It must be awful there."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, that's real kind of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> ye," responded Mr. Peaslee. "I +wonder now if you'd mind taking this along to him," and he offered +her the paper parcel. "It's a harmonica, I guess they call it. It's +real handsome. It cost consid'able—a pretty consid'able sum. I feel +kinder sorry for the leetle feller, and I don't grudge it a mite." +And he kept repeating, in a tone which suggested whistling to keep +your courage up, "Not a mite, not a mite."</p> + +<p>Miss Ware smothered a laugh on hearing what the present was. She +must not hurt the feelings of this kind old man!</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the little hypocrite,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> "that's nice! Jimmie'll be so +pleased."</p> + +<p>But perhaps the harmonica pleased Jim as much as the schoolbooks +which the school-teacher, with a solicitous eye on her pupil's +standing in his studies, was taking to him. Saying good-by to Mr. +Peaslee, Miss Ware, books and harmonica in hand, went on her way to +visit the afflicted boy in his dungeon. Meanwhile Jim, turning the +wringer for Mrs. Calkins, and listening to her stories of "Mark's" +prowess with all sorts of malefactors, was having an excellent time. +He had decided to be a sheriff when he grew up.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/chap_5.jpg" title="Cat curled up on floor." height="184" width="232" alt="Cat curled up on floor." /></div> + + +<h2>V</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap3">T</span><span class="smcap">he</span> day +of the assembling of the grand jury for the September term +of the Adams County court finally dawned. How Mr. Peaslee had looked +forward to that day! How often had he pictured the scene—the bustle +about the court house; the agreeable crowd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> of black-coated lawyers, +with their clever talk, their good stories; the grave judge, and the +still graver side judges; the greetings and hand-shakings amid much +joking and laughter; the county gossip among the grand jurors in the +informal moments before they filed into the courtroom to be sworn +and to receive the judge's charge; himself, finally, in his best +black coat and cherished beaver hat, there in the midst of +it—important, weighty, respected, a public man!</p> + +<p>He had cherished the vision of himself walking up the village street +on that first morning, a dignitary re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>turning the cordial and +admiring salutes of his village friends. He had seen himself later +in the jury-room, shrewdly "leading" the reluctant witness, +delivering weighty opinions on the bearing of testimony, and making +all respect him as a marvel of conservatism, dignity, and wisdom. +This was to be one of the most important and pleasurable days of his +life, the rung in a ladder of preferment which reached as high as +the state-house dome!</p> + +<p>And when that day came, it rained; steadily, gloomily, fiercely +rained. Solomon was not allowed to wear his best clothes. When, +peering out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> of the window, he hopefully said he "guessed mebbe 't +was goin' to clear," his wife invited him tartly to "wait till it +did."</p> + +<p>She insisted that he put on his every-day clothes, and thus arrayed, +and without meeting a single villager to realize the importance of +his errand, he waded up to the court house, the pelting rain +rattling on his old umbrella, the fierce wind almost wrenching it +inside out.</p> + +<p>There was, of course, no parade on the courthouse steps for the +benefit of a wondering village, as there would have been had the day +been fine. Instead, the men, steam<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>ing with wet, stood about +uncomfortably in the corridors, muddy with the mud from their feet, +wet with the drip from their umbrellas. The air in the court house +was close, and every one felt uncomfortable and depressed.</p> + +<p>Mr. Peaslee, having greeted three or four men whom he knew, found +himself jammed into a corner behind four or five jurors who were +strangers to him, but he was too disheartened to try to scrape +acquaintance with them. He felt lonely and helpless.</p> + +<p>He looked enviously over to the other end of the corridor, where +Fred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> Farnsworth, Eben Sampson, and Albion Small were standing +together. In contrast with the others, these men were laughing. +Albion was "consid'able of a joker," Mr. Peaslee reflected gloomily.</p> + +<p>Then old Abijah Keith stormed in, and in his high, shrill voice +began immediately to utter his unfavorable opinion of everything and +everybody.</p> + +<p>"Well, if he ain't here again!" exclaimed, in disgust, Hiram +Hopkins, one of the men in front of Solomon. "Cantankerest old +lummux in the whole state—just lots on upsetting things. Abijah!" +he snorted. "Can't Abijah, I call him!"</p> + +<p>M<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>r. Peaslee shrank back into his corner nervously. He knew this old +tyrant and dreaded him.</p> + +<p>Not much was done that first day. The clerk swore them; the judge +charged them, and appointed the sensible, steady Sampson foreman. +Then they retired to the jury-room—a big, desolate place, wherein +was a long, ink-spattered table surrounded by wooden armchairs and +spittoons. The grand jurors seated themselves, and were solemnly +silent while John Paige, the state's attorney, began the dull task +of presenting cases. Mr. Peaslee found that he had nothing brilliant +to say.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>As a matter of fact, his own troubles were making him see everything +yellow. The jurymen did not seem to him as agreeable a lot as he had +expected, and as for Paige, he irritated Solomon beyond measure.</p> + +<p>Paige was an able young man and a good lawyer, and was entitled to +the position which he had attained so young; but, the son of a man +of rather exceptional means, he had been educated at a city college, +and had a sophistication which Solomon viewed with deep suspicion. +Moreover, he discarded the garb which Mr. Peaslee regarded as +sacred. He was not in black. Instead, he wore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> a light gray business +suit, his collar was very knowing in cut, and his cravat of dark +blue was caught with a gold pin.</p> + +<p>"Citified smart Aleck," was Mr. Peaslee's characterization. To tell +the truth, he mistrusted the man's ability, and was afraid of him. +If that fellow knew, Mr. Peaslee felt that it would go hard with +him. Generally, Paige was popular.</p> + +<p>Solomon had, of course, been painfully awake to every hint and +intimation in regard to Jim's case. He had seen Jake Hibbard, that +carrion crow of the law, loafing about the corridors, and the sight +had made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> him shiver. He had next heard that Jim's case would be +quickly called,—probably on the next day,—news producing a complex +emotion, the elements of which he could not distinguish. +Furthermore, a remark or so which he overheard indicated that the +out-of-town men were inclined to take a harsh view of the matter. +And reflecting on all these things, he paddled home through the +depressing wet.</p> + +<p>And the next day it rained.</p> + +<p>More and more perturbed, as the climax approached, Mr. Peaslee took +his place in the jury-room, and sat there with unhearing ears. He +sat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> and thought and delivered battle with his conscience, which was +growing painfully vigorous and aggressive. But, after all, perhaps +they would not find a true bill, and then Jim would go free, and he +could breathe again. Mr. Peaslee clung to the hope, and hugged it. +It was the one thing which gave him courage.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen of the grand jury," suddenly he heard Paige saying, "the +next case for you to consider is that of James Edwards, aged +fifteen, of Ellmington, charged with assault, with intent to kill, +upon one Peter Lamoury, also of Ellmington."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>And he proceeded to read the complaint, which, in spite of the +monotonous rapidity with which he rattled it off, scared Mr. Peaslee +badly with its solemn-sounding legal phraseology.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said Paige, laying down the paper, "there was no +eyewitness to the actual assault; and only three people have any +personal knowledge of the event—Mr. Edwards, the defendant's +father, the accused himself, and the complainant. Mr. Lamoury, his +counsel tells me, is in no condition to appear. But I have here," +lifting a paper, "his affidavit, properly executed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> giving his +version of the matter. The boy's father, however, is at hand. +Probably the jury would like to question him."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me," said Mr. Sampson, "that Mr. Edwards would be +pretty apt to know the rights of it, if he's willing to talk. I +guess we'd better hear him."</p> + +<p>The state's attorney stepped to the door.</p> + +<p>"This way, please!" he called, and Mr. Edwards entered the room.</p> + +<p>Farnsworth and Peaslee both studied the man's face closely, +although for very different reasons, and both found it sternly +uncompromising.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>"Please take a chair, Mr. Edwards," said Paige, and in a swift +glance rapidly estimated the man. "Here's some one who won't lie," +he thought, impressed.</p> + +<p>"Now," he resumed, "will you kindly tell the members of the grand +jury what you know of the case?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Edwards cleared his throat painfully. Determined as he was to +let his rebellious boy take whatever punishment his mistaken course +might bring, he now began to wish that the punishment would be +light. His confidence that Jim needed only to be pushed a little to +confess was somewhat shaken, and the charge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> was really serious. He +felt a desire to explain, to palliate, to minimize.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," he said, "my boy's always been a good boy. I can't +believe that he meant to hurt Lamoury or any one else. It must have +been some accident—"</p> + +<p>"Facts, please," said Paige, crisply.</p> + +<p>Mr. Peaslee caught his breath indignantly. He had been entirely in +sympathy with Mr. Edwards's soft mode of approaching his story. +Paige seemed to him unfeeling.</p> + +<p>"I will answer any questions," said Mr. Edwards, stiffening.</p> + +<p>"Did you hear any shot fired?" began Paige.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Where were you?"</p> + +<p>"I was asleep in the room above Jim's."</p> + +<p>"Was Jim in his room?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so."</p> + +<p>"You suppose so. Don't you know?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't know."</p> + +<p>"But to the best of your knowledge and belief he was there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And the shot waked you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"What did you do on hearing the shot?"</p> + +<p>"I jumped to the window."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>"Tell what you saw, please."</p> + +<p>"I saw a man fall in the orchard, and hurried out to see if he was +hurt. But he was gone when I got there."</p> + +<p>"Then what?"</p> + +<p>"I went to speak to Jim."</p> + +<p>"He was in his room, then, immediately after the shot?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Ah! And when you spoke to him, did he admit firing the shot?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Did he deny it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Where was his gun?"</p> + +<p>"In the rack over the mantel."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>"In the rack over the mantel," repeated Paige, slowly, glancing at +the jurors. "Did you examine it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"What was its condition? Did it show that it had been fired?"</p> + +<p>"No; it was clean."</p> + +<p>"It was clean," repeated Paige. "I understand that it was a +double-barreled, muzzle-loading shotgun. Were there any rags about?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Where were they?"</p> + +<p>"One was in the ashes of the fireplace."</p> + +<p>"Look as if some one had tried to hide it?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>"Yes"—reluctantly.</p> + +<p>"If it was that sort of gun, there must have been a shot-pouch and +powder-flask. Where were they?"</p> + +<p>"In the drawer where Jim keeps them."</p> + +<p>"Everything looked, then, as if no shot had been fired?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Was there any one besides yourself and your son in the house?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Your housekeeper?"</p> + +<p>"She had stepped out."</p> + +<p>"To the best of your knowledge, then, there was no one about to fire +the shot except your son?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>"No."</p> + +<p>"That will do," said Paige, with an accent of finality. "That is," +he added, with the air of one who observes a courteous form, "unless +some of the grand jurors wish to ask a question."</p> + +<p>There were various things which were new to Mr. Peaslee in this +testimony. He had supposed that Jim had been picked as the guilty +person by a process of mere exclusion; he had had no idea that the +case against him was so strong. How had the boy got to the room so +soon after he himself had left, and why had he gone there? And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> why, +why had he cleaned the shotgun? The grand jury must believe in his +guilt. And when the case came to trial, what could Jim say to clear +himself? It was going hard, hard with the boy.</p> + +<p>Mr. Peaslee's mouth grew dry, his palms moist; he moved uneasily in +his chair. Once or twice he felt sure that the next instant he would +find himself on his feet, but the minutes passed and he still was +seated.</p> + +<p>And Farnsworth, anxious, for the sake of his betrothed, Miss Ware, +to help Jim, was nonplussed. There were two possible explanations +of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> Jim's cleaning the gun, if he did clean it: the first, that Jim +was protecting himself; the second, that he was shielding some one +else.</p> + +<p>But the second theory seemed quite untenable. Farnsworth had made +some cautious but well-directed inquiries about Mr. Edwards, and had +satisfied himself that the rumors about his smuggling were nothing +but malicious gossip. There was not a man of greater honesty in the +state. The boy must have done the shooting. Miss Ware would have to +give it up. Still, he would hazard a question.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Edwards," he said, "La<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>moury worked for you once, didn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You quarreled, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"I discharged him for intemperance."</p> + +<p>"There was no bad blood?"</p> + +<p>"Lamoury was angry, I believe."</p> + +<p>Farnsworth stopped; there was nothing to be gained by this course of +questioning in the way of clearing Jim. Of course later, the point +that Lamoury had a grudge against the family might have importance, +although he could not see just how. Some one else surely heard that +gunshot. It was incredible that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> neighborhood should be so +deserted. If only there were another witness!</p> + +<p>The other jurors had no questions. They were, to tell the truth, a +little impatient. It was near the dinner-hour, and they were hungry. +The case seemed perfectly plain to them. It was not likely, they +argued, that the boy's father could be mistaken.</p> + +<p>"You may go," said Paige to Mr. Edwards.</p> + +<p>"I don't see," he began, when the witness had left the room, "any +need for our going further into this case. Whatever we may think of +the animus of the complainant,—I take it that was what you wished +to bring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> out, Mr. Farnsworth,—there seems to be no question but +that the boy fired the shot. The presumption seems strong also that +he intended to hit. Were there any accident or any good excuse, the +boy could, of course, have no motive not to tell it. I suggest that +a true bill be found at once, and that we proceed to more important +matters. I want to remind you that we have a great deal of work +before us."</p> + +<p>"Well, gentlemen," said Sampson, "I guess we're pretty much of a +mind about this. If no one has any objections, I guess we'll call it +a vote." He looked round.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>"As we're all agreed—" he began.</p> + +<p>"Just a moment, Sampson!" suddenly exclaimed Farnsworth. It had just +then flashed over him that Mr. Peaslee, the kind Mr. Peaslee, who +gave Jim knives and harmonicas, was next-door neighbor to the +Edwardses. If he had been at home when the shot was fired, he must +have heard it, and he might have seen some significant thing which +questioning might bring out. Of course, if Peaslee had seen +anything, he would have spoken, but he might have overlooked the +importance of some fact or other.</p> + +<p>"Just a moment, Sampson!" he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> said, and put up his hand. Then he +swung sharply in his chair and put the question:—</p> + +<p>"Peaslee, where were you when that shot was fired?"</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/chap_6.jpg" title="Cat standing alert facing forward." height="205" width="140" alt="Cat standing alert facing forward." /></div> + + +<h2>VI</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap4">P</span><span class="smcap">easlee</span>, +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.</p> + +<p>Had the question not been uttered,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> it would have died upon his +lips, so much surprised was he at what he saw.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," Mr. Peaslee began, in shaky tones, "I guess I got a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +word 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."</p> + +<p>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 some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> notes 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.</p> + +<p>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 sake<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> and for the +boy's. Insensibly he had grown more and more interested in Jim and +attached to him. Now—everything was explained.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Farnsworth, hoping for light upon these points, settled back in his +chair to listen. Mr. Peaslee had more to say.</p> + +<p>"It kinder goes agin the grain," Solomon resumed, with a weary, +deprecatory smile, "to own up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> you've been actin' like a fool, but I +guess I got to do it.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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 on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> a 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.</p> + +<p>"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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>"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 things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +slip 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."</p> + +<p>And Mr. Peaslee sank huddled and hopeless into his chair.</p> + +<p>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 a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> farcical accident, bit by bit revealed +its humor.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Smiles appeared on faces all round the table; and as the comicality +of the whole affair more and more struck upon their astonished +minds,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> rested 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.</p> + +<p>"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'us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> business, <i>I</i> call it. +Guess the grand jury's got suthin' to say to it, hain't they? Cat? +Cat's foot, <i>I</i> say. Likely story, likely story. Don't believe a +word on 't."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come, Mr. Keith! Oh, come now!" he heard Hopkins exclaim. +"What's the use of raising a rum<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>pus? It wasn't nothing but bird +shot. Folks don't go murdering folks with bird shot."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"It is, it is!" admitted Solomon, in his soul.</p> + +<p>"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 +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> sense 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."</p> + +<p>Solomon's heart was in his mouth. Would the others take this +view—or Keith's?</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>"Fit?" said Hiram. "It took some spunk to get up there and tell just +what a fool he'd been, didn't—"</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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 had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> Farnsworth asked that question? In +casting doubt upon his one brave deed fate seemed to him to have +done its worst.</p> + +<p>"He'd got up before I put the question," said Farnsworth.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Up before ye asked him!" Abijah turned on Farnsworth. "Up for what? +Tell me that, will ye?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>And Solomon, listening anxiously for Farnsworth's answer, was +depressed to hear him give merely a good-humored laugh at Uncle +Abijah's thrust.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Peaslee," asked Sampson, so unexpectedly that Solomon jumped, +"didn't you say something about a marble?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Peaslee, gloomily.</p> + +<p>"Fit the bore, did it?" continued the foreman.</p> + +<p>"Slick," answered Mr. Peaslee, with the brevity of despair.</p> + +<p>"If that marble fitted the bore," said Albion Small, while Sampson<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +nodded assent, "it's my opinion it might do considerable damage."</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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 bank<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> had 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>All this while Paige had been playing with his watch-chain and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +watching Abijah, whose character he appreciated, with discreet +amusement; but he found himself in essential agreement with the +peppery old fellow.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>Sampson smiled. "Mr. State's Attorney," he said, turning to Paige, +"I guess perhaps you'd better give us the law of this."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>"Didn't I tell ye?" said Abijah, triumphantly.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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 +against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> the 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.</p> + +<p>"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 need<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +to 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 the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> court. 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."</p> + +<p>"Sartain, sartain," answered poor Solomon, tremulously.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Why had he put in that marble?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;"> +<img src="images/illus.jpg" title="He turned to face the storm." height="400" width="592" alt="He turned to face the storm." /> +<h5>HE TURNED TO FACE THE STORM</h5> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>"But I done right," he tried to console himself by saying. "I done +right."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> Seating himself upon an upturned pail, he stayed there a long +while, still as a statue, while he chewed the cud of bitter +reflection.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Mr. Peaslee, silent and immovable, watched her with apathetic eyes. +Finally, as if assured he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> not 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.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Solomon to himself, his spirit quite crushed, "I guess +she ain't bringing no more than belong to me by rights."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he could not endure to see any others. He went +desperately into the house, where he found his wife fuming over his +delay.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>"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."</p> + +<p>"You!" exclaimed his wife, dropping her knife and fork, and looking +at him as if she thought he had taken leave of his senses.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>She stared at her husband while he stared out of the window.</p> + +<p>Then she gave it up.</p> + +<p>"Draw up your chair!" she said sharply. "I guess ye got to eat, +whatever ye be!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/chap_7.jpg" title="Cat drinking from saucer." height="221" width="276" alt="Cat drinking from saucer." /></div> + + +<h2>VII</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">W</span><span class="smcap">hen</span> +the 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.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>He waved his hat, and called:—</p> + +<p>"Jim's free!"</p> + +<p>As he reached her side he added, "He didn't fire the shot at all."</p> + +<p>"Of course he didn't!" cried Nancy, triumphantly. "Didn't I tell +you? But who did, and how did you find out?"</p> + +<p>"Peaslee," said Farnsworth. "He owned up."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Peaslee! Then that awful harmonica—Why, the wretch!"</p> + +<p>"Sh!" warned Farnsworth. "Not so loud! These are jury-room secrets +which I'm not supposed to tell."</p> + +<p>But he told them, nevertheless. As the two walked along together,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +he gave her an account of all that had happened.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Fred!" said Nancy, stopping and facing him. "Jim knew that his +father was the only person in the house, didn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Farnsworth.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>"Then he thought his father did it!"</p> + +<p>"O pshaw!" exclaimed Farnsworth. "He couldn't!"</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>"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."</p> + +<p>"But I haven't had any dinner," objected Farnsworth.</p> + +<p>"Dinner!" exclaimed Miss Ware, in deep scorn, and Farnsworth laughed +and surrendered.</p> + +<p>They separated then. Miss Ware took the side street to the jail, +while Farnsworth hurried along toward Edwards's house.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Edwards," he said, when that gentleman appeared at the door, +"Miss Ware wants you right away<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> at 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.</p> + +<p>A sudden fear showed in Mr. Edwards's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Jim isn't sick, is he?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" replied Farnsworth, hastily. "He's cleared, that's all. +We'll have him out of jail this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Cleared?" repeated Mr. Edwards, distrustfully. Was Farnsworth +joking? Nothing was more certain in the father's mind than that Jim +had fired the shot. No<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> other supposition was possible. His face +grew severe at the thought that Farnsworth was trifling with him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, cleared!" said the young man, somewhat nettled. "We have +absolute, certain proof that Jim hadn't anything to do with it."</p> + +<p>"I should like to hear it," said Mr. Edwards, coldly.</p> + +<p>"Well, we have the real offender's own confession," said Farnsworth, +irritated at the incredulity of the man. What was the fellow made +of?</p> + +<p>Mr. Edwards said nothing. He turned and got his hat, and walked with +Farnsworth up the street the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> half-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.</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>Farnsworth, little guessing the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> turmoil 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.</p> + +<p>"If she is right," he reflected, thinking how harsh had been the +father's treatment of the boy, "what a little brick Jim is!"</p> + +<p>He had a very human desire to present this view and prick this +automaton into some show of life.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Edwards," he said suddenly, "Jim knew, didn't he, that you were +the only person besides himself at home?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>"Does it occur to you that he may have thought you did the +shooting?"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +spite 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?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I'm certain!" she whispered, breathlessly. "When I told Jim<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> first, +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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>But certain questions burned on Mr. Edwards's lips.</p> + +<p>"Jim," he said, with anxious emotion, "did you think that <i>I</i> shot +Lamoury?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Jim.</p> + +<p>"But why, my boy, why should I want to shoot him?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>"Lamoury had been telling," said Jim, highly embarrassed.</p> + +<p>"Telling?" said his father, in perplexity.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Jim, "you know—about your being a—a smuggler."</p> + +<p>Much astonished, Mr. Edwards pushed his questions, and soon came to +know the depth and breadth of his boy's misconception.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>Mr. Edwards could not speak for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> a moment for emotion. Then he drew +the boy to him.</p> + +<p>"My son, my son," he said, "you and I must know each other better."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Jim," his father said huskily, "would you like a new +breech-loader?"</p> + +<p>And then Jim was happier still.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%; margin-bottom: 2em;" /> + +<p>Those were reluctant feet which dragged Mr. Peaslee the next morning +to the jury-room. The counsel of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> the 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.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lamoury," he said, still with that puzzling smile, "has +consented, in spite of his serious physical condition, to appear +before you."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>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.</p> + +<p>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 his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> face. Mr. Peaslee heaved a great +sigh of mingled contrition and fear. This wreck was his work; he +would be punished for it.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, seh, me, Ah'll tol' heem!" said Lamoury, eagerly.</p> + +<p>Confident that no one knew anything about what had happened except +Jim Edwards and himself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> he intended to make his narrative +striking.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>And Lamoury paused to let this beautiful sentiment impress itself +upon the jurors. Mr. Peaslee listened with profound astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Den he holler somet'ing Ah<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> ain't hear, honly 'Canuck,' han' Ah +begins for get my mads up. Ah hain't do heem no harm, <i>hein</i>? Den he +fire hees gun,—poom!—an' more as twenty—prob'ly ten shot-buck +heet me on the head of it!"</p> + +<p>Buckshot! "Them's the marble," thought Mr. Peaslee, "but there +wasn't but one!"</p> + +<p>"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, mebbe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> four hole in mah arm more +beeg as mah t'umb."</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>"Bose of it," averred Pete, without winking.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"You said you were going along the short cut through Mr. Edwards's +orchard, didn't you?" the state's attorney now asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, seh," said Pete.</p> + +<p>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 aid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> of 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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Dame!" exclaimed Pete, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>genuously. "Ah'll was got for be, since +Ah was shoot, ain't it? Ah'll can't remembler."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Ah'll be there, me!" cried Pete, in indignant alarm. "No, seh! +M'sieu' Edwards say dat? Respect<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span><i>a</i>ble 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?"</p> + +<p>Paige drew a square on Mr. Peaslee's side of the fence, directly +opposite the bushes.</p> + +<p>"That," said he, "is Mr. Peaslee's hen-house," and he brushed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> the +chalk from his fingers with an air of indifference.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lamoury," said Paige, with a very casual air, "behind those +bushes is a broken board."</p> + +<p>"So-o?" said Pete.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>"Any one who was there had an excellent chance to study the +fastenings of Mr. Peaslee's hen-house door."</p> + +<p>"<i>Mais</i>, Ah'll was tol' you Ah'll not be dere, me!" cried Pete, +alarmed and excited.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Pete shrunk his head into his shoulders and glared questioningly at +the state's attorney. The examination was not going to his liking.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>"What Ah'll care for dat?" he said at last.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Nossing! Nossing! Ah'll be work for heem more good as never was."</p> + +<p>"If he treated you as unjustly as that," said Paige, with sympathy, +"you cannot have a very high opinion of Mr. Edwards."</p> + +<p>"Ah'll tol' you he was bad mans. He'll discharge me more as seexty +mile off. Ah'll have for walk, me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> Ah'll tol' you dat was mean +treek for play on poor mans."</p> + +<p>And Pete sought sympathy from the faces about him.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>Pete jumped.</p> + +<p>"<i>Hein!</i>" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"You don't object to having an excellent doctor like Doctor Brigham +look at your wounds, do you?" asked Paige.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>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:—</p> + +<p>"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, <i>hein</i>? You be peeg! You be all peegs—every one!" +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> Pete, making a wide, inclusive gesture, shouted, "I care not +more as one cent for de whole keet and caboodle of it! Peeg, peeg, +peeg!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Mr. Peaslee, the thermometer of whose spirits had been rising +steadily, joined in the laughter which followed the exit of the +discomfited Pete.</p> + +<p>"Terrible smart feller, Paige, ain't he?" said he to Albion Small. +"Did him up real slick, didn't he?" The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> delighted Solomon had quite +forgotten his dislike for the citified Paige.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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 never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> let the boy pass a night in Hotel +Calkins."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%; margin-bottom: 2em;" /> + +<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> he "guessed he could stand it." +On the whole, he was moderately happy.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>After all, he had thirty thousand dollars, and it had been calmly +drawing interest through all his tribulations.</p> + +<p>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 slight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> start, 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.</p> + +<p>"That harmonica was fine!" said Jim, grinning amiably.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>"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!"</p> + +<p>"Didn't know they fed ye up much to the jail," commented Solomon, +puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wasn't locked up," said Jim, and explained.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, I'm beat! That was clever on 'em, wa'n't it now?" said +Mr. Peaslee, much pleased.</p> + +<p>"And father ain't holding any grudge, either," said Jim. "He says +he's much obliged to you"—a remark which the reader will +under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>stand better than Mr. Peaslee ever did.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Filled with the pleasant sense of having "made it up" with the boy +whom he thought he had so greatly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> injured, 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.</p> + +<p>"Eyesters, I swanny!" he ejaculated.</p> + +<p>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 for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> sixty 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Why, Sarepty, Sarepty!" he said to his wife.</p> + +<p>"You goin' to be arrested?" asked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> Mrs. 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.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>He paused helplessly, unable to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> express his complex feelings about +the stew, and the attitude on the part of his wife which it +revealed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," said his wife, "after all, 't ain't 's if you'd gone and +lost money."</p> + +<p>And after supper Mr. Peaslee carefully poured some skimmed milk into +a saucer and went out to the barn.</p> + +<p>"Kitty, kitty!" he called. "Kitty, come, kitty!"</p> + +<p>The Calico Cat did not respond. But in the morning the saucer was +empty.</p> + +<div class="bbox" style="width: 300px; margin-top: 3em;"> +<h5>Transcriber's Note</h5> +<p style="font-size: 80%; text-indent: 0px;">The cover illustration referred to in the +Author's Note at the beginning of this book +was not available for this electronic +version of the text.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Calico Cat, by Charles Miner Thompson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CALICO CAT *** + +***** This file should be named 20010-h.htm or 20010-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/0/1/20010/ + +Produced by Jacqueline Jeremy, David Edwards and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Calico Cat + +Author: Charles Miner Thompson + +Illustrator: F. R. Gruger + +Release Date: December 3, 2006 [EBook #20010] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CALICO CAT *** + + + + +Produced by Jacqueline Jeremy, David Edwards and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + +THE CALICO CAT + +BY + +CHARLES MINER THOMPSON + + +WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY + +F. R. GRUGER + + +[Illustration: Logo] + + +BOSTON AND NEW YORK +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY +The Riverside Press Cambridge +1908 + + +COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY CHARLES MINER THOMPSON +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + +_Published October, 1908_ + +SECOND IMPRESSION + + + + +TO MY WIFE + + + + +NOTE + + +I have to make these acknowledgments: to Mr. Ira Rich Kent for many +a helpful suggestion in the framing of the story; to the publishers +of "The Youth's Companion," in which the tale first appeared, for +permitting the use of Mr. Gruger's admirable illustrations, and to +Mr. Francis W. Hight for the very pleasant cat which he has drawn +for the cover. + +THE AUTHOR + + + + +[Illustration: Cat dozing upon the top of the fence.] + +THE CALICO CAT + +I + + +Mr. Peaslee looked more complacent than ever. It was Saturday noon, +and Solomon had just returned from his usual morning sojourn +"up-street." He had taken off his coat, and was washing his face at +the sink, while his wife was "dishing up" the midday meal. There was +salt codfish, soaked fresh, and stewed in milk--"picked up," as the +phrase goes; there were baked potatoes and a thin, pale-looking pie. +Mrs. Peaslee did not believe in pampering the flesh, and she did +believe in saving every possible cent. + +"Well," said Mr. Peaslee, as they sat down to this feast, "I guess +I've got news for ye." + +His wife gazed at him with interest. + +"Are ye drawed?" she asked. + +"Got the notice from Whitcomb right in my pocket. Grand juror. +September term. 'T ain't more'n a week off." + +The _staccato_ utterance was caused by the big mouthfuls of codfish +and potato which, between phrases, Mr. Peaslee conveyed to his +mouth. It was plain to see that he was greatly pleased with his new +dignity. + +"What do they give ye for it?" asked his wife. Solomon should accept +no office which did not bring profit. + +"Two dollars a day and mileage," said Mr. Peaslee, with the emphasis +of one who knows he will make a sensation. + +"Mileage? What's that?" + +"Travelin' expenses. State allows ye so much a mile. I get eight +cents for goin' to the courthouse." + +"Ye get eight cents every day?" asked his wife, her eyes snapping. +She was vague about the duties of a grand juror; maybe he had to +earn his two dollars; but she had exact ideas about the trouble of +walking "up-street." To get eight cents for that was being paid for +doing nothing at all, and she was much astonished at the idea. + +"Likely now, ain't it?" said Mr. Peaslee, with masculine scorn. +"State don't waste money that way! Mileage's to get ye there an' +take ye home again when term's over. You're s'posed to stay round +'tween whiles." + +"Humph!" said his wife, disappointed. "They give ye two dollars a +day"--she hazarded the shot--"just for settin' round and talkin', +don't they? Walkin's considerable more of an effort for most folks." + +"'Settin' round an' talkin'!'" exclaimed Mr. Peaslee, so indignantly +that he stopped eating for a moment, knife and fork upright in his +rigid, scandalized hands, while he gazed at his thin, energetic, +shrewish little wife. "'Settin' round and talkin'!' It's mighty +important work, now I tell ye. I guess there wouldn't be much law +and order if it wa'n't for the grand jury. They don't take none but +men o' jedgment. Takes gumption, I tell ye. Ye have to pay money to +get that kind." + +"Well," said his wife, with the air of one who concedes an +unimportant point, "anyhow, it's good pay for a man whose time ain't +worth anythin'." + +"Ain't worth anythin'!" exclaimed Mr. Peaslee, in hurt tones. "Now, +Sarepty, ye know better'n that. I don't know how they'll get along +without me up to the bank. They've got a pretty good idee o' my +jedgment 'bout mortgages. They don't pass any without my say so." + +Mrs. Peaslee sniffed. "I've seen ye in the bank window, settin' +round with Jim Bartlett and Si Spooner and the rest of 'em. Readin' +the paper--that's all _I_ ever see ye doin'. Must be wearin' on ye." + +"Guess ye never heard what was said, did ye? Can't hear 'em +thinkin', I guess. They're mighty shreued up to the bank, mighty +shreued." + +They had finished their codfish and potato, and Mrs. Peaslee, +without giving much attention to her husband's testimony to the +business acumen of his banking friends and incidentally of himself, +pulled the pale, thin pie toward her and cut it. + +"Pass up your plate," said she. + +When his plate was again in place before him, Mr. Peaslee inserted +the edge of his knife under the upper crust and raised it so that he +could get a better view of its contents; he had his suspicions of +that pie. What he saw confirmed them; between the crusts was a thin, +soft layer of some brown stuff, interspersed with spots of red. + +"Them's the currants we had for supper the night before last, and +that's the dried-apple sauce we had for supper last night," he +announced accurately. "An' ye know how I like a proper pie." + +"I ain't goin' to waste good victuals," said his wife, with +decision. + +There was silence for a moment; Solomon did not dare make any +further protest. + +"I suppose," his wife said, picking up again the thread of her +thoughts, "ye'll have to wear your go-to-meetin' suit all the time +to the grand jury. I expect they'll be all wore out at the end. +That'll take off something. You be careful, now. Settin' round's +awful wearin' on pants. You get a chair with a cushion. And don't ye +go treatin' cigars. And don't ye go to the hotel for your victuals. +I ain't goin' to have ye spendin' your money when ye can just as +well come home. Where ye goin' now?" + +Mr. Peaslee was putting on his coat. "Well," he said, "I kind o' +thought I'd step over to Ed'ards's. I thought mebbe he'd be +interested." + +"Goin' to brag, are ye?" was his wife's remorseless comment. "Much +good it'll do ye, talkin' to that hatchet-face. He ain't so pious as +he looks, if all stories are true." + +But Mr. Peaslee was already outside the door. She raised her voice +shrilly. "You be back, now; them chickens has got to be fed!" + +Mr. Peaslee sought a more sympathetic audience. Being drawn for the +grand jury had greatly flattered his vanity, for it encouraged a +secret ambition which he had long held to get into public life. +Service on the grand jury might lead to his becoming selectman, +perhaps justice of the peace, perhaps town representative from +Ellmington--who knew what else? He looked down a pleasant vista of +increasing office, at the end of which stood the state capitol. He +could be senator, perhaps! And he began planning his behavior as +juror, the dignified bearing, the well-matured utterances, the +shrewd cross-questioning. At the end of his service his neighbors +would know him for a man of solid judgment, a "safe" man to be +intrusted with weighty affairs. + +Mr. Peaslee was fifty-three years old. He had a comfortable figure, +a clean-shaven, round face, and blue eyes much exaggerated for the +spectator by the strong lenses of a pair of great spectacles. These, +with his gray hair, gave him a benevolence of aspect which somewhat +misrepresented him. As a matter of fact, although good-humored and +not without a still surviving capacity for generous impulse, he was +only less "near" than his wife. Childishly vain, he bore himself +with an air of self-satisfaction not without its charm for humorous +neighbors. They said that they guessed he thought himself "some +punkins." + +"Some punkins" most people admitted him to be, although how much of +his money and how much of his shrewdness was really his wife's was +matter of debate among those who knew him best. At any rate, the +Peaslees had made money. A few years before, they had sold their +fat farm "down-river" advantageously, and had bought the dignified +white house in Ellmington in which they have just been seen eating a +dinner which looks as if they were "house poor." That they were not; +they had thirty thousand dollars in the local bank, partly invested +in its stock. In Ellmington Mrs. Peaslee was less lonely, and +through Mr. Peaslee was an unsuspected director in the bank, and a +shrewd user of the chances for profitable investment which her +husband's association with the "bank crowd" opened to her. + +As for Mr. Peaslee, he did not know that he himself was not the +business head of the house; and his garden, his chickens, and his +pleasant loafing in the bank window kept him contentedly occupied. +For, in spite of her shrewish tongue, Mrs. Peaslee had tact enough +to let her husband have the credit for her business acumen. "I ain't +goin' to let on," she said to herself, "that he ain't just as good +as the rest of 'em." She had her pride. + +As Mr. Peaslee stepped along the straight walk which divided his +neat lawn, and opened the neat gate in his neat white fence, he met +Sam Barton, the broad-shouldered, good-humored giant who was +constable of Ellmington. Sam gave him a smiling "How are ye, +squire?" as he passed. + +"Guess he's heard," said Mr. Peaslee to himself, much pleased. Yet, +as a matter of fact, the greeting was not different from that which +Sam had given him daily for the past three years. + +Once on the sidewalk, Mr. Peaslee turned to the right toward the +house of his neighbor, Mr. Edwards. Edwards was a younger man than +Peaslee, perhaps forty-seven. His business was speculating in +lumber and cattle, and in the interest of this he was constantly +passing and re passing the Canadian border, which was not far from +Ellmington. In the intervals between his trips he was much at home. +He was a stern, silent, secretive man, and simply because he was so +close-mouthed there was much guessing and gossip, not wholly kind, +about his affairs. + +Mr. Peaslee found the front door of the Edwards house standing open +in the trustful village fashion, and, with neighborly freedom, +walked in without ringing. He turned first into the sitting-room, +where he found no one, and then into a rear room opening from it. +This obviously was a boy's "den." On the table in the centre were a +checkerboard, some loose string, a handful of spruce gum, some +scattered marbles, a broken jack-knife, a cap, a shot-pouch, an old +bird's nest, a powder-flask, a dog-eared copy of "Caesar's +Commentaries," open, and a Latin dictionary, also open. In a corner +stood a fishing-rod in its cotton case; along the wall were ranged +bait-boxes, a fishing-basket, a pair of rubber boots, and a huge +wasp's nest. Leaning against the sill of the open window was a +double-barreled shotgun, and on the sill itself were some black, +greasy rags and a small bottle of oil. + +Various truths might be inferred from the disarray. One was that Mr. +Edwards was generous to his son Jim, and another was that there was +no Mrs. Edwards. Further, it might be easily enough guessed that Jim +had been lured from the study of Latin, in which pretty Miss Ware, +who was his teacher at the "Union" school, was trying to interest +him, by the attractive idea of oiling his gun-barrels, and that +something still more attractive--perhaps a boy with crossed fingers, +for it was not too late for swimming--had lured him from that. At +any rate, Jim was not there. + +Mr. Peaslee, still bent on finding Mr. Edwards, moved toward the +open window. But he could see no signs of life anywhere. None of the +household was, however, far away. Jim was in the loft of the barn, +where he was carefully examining a barrel of early apples with a +view to filling his pockets with the best; the housekeeper had +merely stepped across the street to borrow some yeast, and Mr. +Edwards, who had a headache, was lying down in the chamber +immediately above Jim's den. + +Mr. Peaslee stood and gazed. He eyed in turn the kitchen ell, the +shed, and the barn, and then gazed out over the "posy" garden, where +still bloomed a few late flowers, of which he recognized only the +"chiny" asters. He looked toward what he himself would have called +the "sarce" garden, with its cabbages, turnips, rustling +corn-stalks, and drying tomato-vines. Seeing no one there, he sent +his gaze to the distant rows of apple trees, bright with ripening +fruit. Disappointed, he was about to turn away, but he could not +resist taking a complacent, sweeping view of his own adjoining +possessions. + +There, on the right, ran the long line of his own dwelling, +continued by the five-foot board fence separating his garden from +Mr. Edwards's. This stood up gauntly white until near the orchard, +where it was completely hidden by the high, feathery stalks of the +asparagus-bed, by a row of great sunflowers, now heavy and bent with +their disk-like seed-pods, and by a clump of lilac bushes. As his +eye traveled along the white expanse, he gave a quick start, and his +face clouded with vexation. + +There in the sun, prone upon the top of the fence, dozed the bane of +his life--_the Calico Cat_. + +Her coat was made up of patches of yellow and white, varied with +a black stocking on her right hind leg, and a large, round, black +spot about her right eye, which gave her a peculiarly predatory and +disreputable appearance. Solomon had disliked her at sight. Ever +since he had bought the house in Ellmington he had been trying to +drive her from the premises, but stay away she would not. Not all +the missiles in existence could convince her that his house was not +a desirable place of abode. And she was a constant vexation and +annoyance. + +She jumped from the fence plump into the middle of newly planted +flower-beds; she filled the haymow with kittens; she asked all her +friends to the barn, where she gave elaborate musical parties at +hours more fashionably late than were tolerated in Ellmington. +Whenever she had indigestion she ate off the tops of the choicest +green things that grew in the garden; but when her appetite was good +she caught and devoured his young chickens. + +Moreover, when at bay she frightened him. Once he had cornered the +spitting creature in a stall. Claws out, tail big, fur all on end, +she had leaped straight at his head, which he ducked, and, landing +squarely upon it, had steadied herself there for a moment with +sharp, protruding claws; thence she had jumped to a feed-box, thence +to a beam, thence to the mow, from the dusky recesses of which she +had glared at him with big, green, menacing eyes. Not since that +experience, which, in spite of his soft hat, had left certain marks +upon his scalp, had he ever attempted to catch her. Instead, he had +borrowed a gun, and a dozen times had fired at her; but although he +counted himself a fair shot, he had never made even a scant bit of +fur fly from her disreputable back. + +And now he knew she laughed at him. Yes, laughed at him, for she had +more than human intelligence. There was something demoniac in her +cleverness, her immunity from harm, her prodigious energy, her +malevolent mischief, her raillery. Actually, he had grown morbid +about the beast; he had a superstitious feeling that in the end she +would bring him bad luck. How he hated her! + +There she lay, with eyes shut, unsuspecting, comfortable, and +basked in the warm September sunshine. Here at his hand was a +double-barreled shotgun. The chance was too good. This vagrant, +this outlaw, this trespasser, this thief--he catalogued her +misdeeds in his mind as he clanged the ramrod down the barrels +to see if the piece was loaded. + +It was not. But ammunition was at hand. He put in a generous charge +from Jim's powder-flask and rammed it home with a paper wad. He +grabbed up the shot-pouch and released the proper charge into his +hand. He was disappointed; it was bird shot. Scattering as it would +scatter, it could do _that_ cat no harm. Nevertheless, he poured the +pellets into the barrel. As he rammed home the paper wad on top of +these, his eye caught the marbles lying on the table. He took one +that fitted, and rammed that home also--for luck. He placed a cap, +lifted the gun to his shoulder, and fired. + +With a leap which sent her six feet into the air the Calico Cat +landed four-square in Mr. Peaslee's chicken-yard, almost on the back +of the dignified rooster, which fled with a startled squawk. She +dodged like lightning across the chicken-yard, between cackling and +clattering hens, went up the wire-netting walls, leaped to the roof, +paused, considered, began to reflect that she had been shot at +before and to wonder at her own fright, stopped, and, sitting down +on the ridgepole, looked inquiringly in Mr. Peaslee's direction. She +was, of course, entirely unharmed. + +But other matters were claiming Mr. Peaslee's attention. Out +from behind the screen formed by the asparagus plumes, the +currant-bushes, the sunflowers, and the lilacs, all of which +grew not so far from the spot on the fence where the Calico +Cat had been sitting, fell a man! + +Solomon had a mere glimpse. Standing behind taller bushes, the +stranger had fallen behind lower ones, and only while his falling +figure was describing the narrow segment of a circle had he been +visible. + +But the glimpse was enough. Mr. Peaslee's jaw dropped, his face +turned white. But the next moment he gave a great sigh of relief. He +saw the man rise and slip into cover of the bushes, and so disappear +through the orchard. He had not, then, killed the fellow! + +Relieved of that fear, he thought of himself. What would people say +were he charged with firing at a man--he, a respectable citizen, a +director in the bank, a grand juror? They must not know! + +He silently laid the gun back against the window-sill, turned with +infinite care, and tiptoed quickly back into the sitting-room, into +the hall, into the street. + +Not a soul was visible. Nevertheless, such was Mr. Peaslee's +agitation, so strongly did he feel the need of silence, that, +placing a shaking hand upon the fence to steady himself, he tiptoed +along the sidewalk all the way to his own house. There the fear of +his wife struck him. He was in no condition to meet that sharp-eyed, +quick-tongued lady! + +He softly entered the front door and penetrated to the dark parlor, +where, as no one would ever enter it except for a funeral or a +wedding, he felt safe from intrusion. There he sank down upon the +slippery horsehair lounge, and, staring helplessly at the severe +portrait of Mrs. Peaslee, done by a lugubrious artist in crayon, +wiped the sweat from his forehead and tried to collect his scattered +faculties. + +"Whew!" he breathed. "Whew!" + + + + +[Illustration: Cat licking paw.] + +II + + +Meanwhile, at the Edwards house, life had grown suddenly +interesting. + +When the report of the gun reached Jim, he had stopped pawing over +the apple barrel, and was sitting on the upper step of the staircase +at the extreme end of the loft, slowly munching an apple and +thinking. + +Jim was a healthy, active boy, with no more sense than naturally +belongs to a boy of fifteen, and with a lively imagination, which +had been most unfortunately overstimulated. Without a mother, and +with a father who paid him scant attention, he read whatever he +liked, and as a result, his head was full of romantic road-agents +delightfully kind to little crippled daughters at home, fierce +pirates who supported aged and respectable mothers, and considerate +bandits who restored valuable watches when told that they were +prized on account of tender associations. + +His imagination had been still further fed by certain local legends +and happenings, highly colored enough to excite the keenest +interest. Ellmington is, as has been said, near the Canadian border. +The place abounds in tales of smuggling, and the popular gossip, as +gossip everywhere has a pleasing way of doing, associates the names +of the most respectable and unlikely people with the disreputable +ventures of the smugglers. + +Of course a story of contraband trade is the more striking if the +narrator can hint that the judge of probate or the most stern of +village deacons might tell a good deal if he were disposed, and +there are always persons ready to give this sort of interest to +their "yarns." + +In Ellmington lived Jake Farnum, an ex-deputy marshal and an +incorrigible liar, about whom gathered the boys, Jim among them, to +hear exciting stories of chase and detection, exactly as boys in a +seaport town gather about an old sailor to hear tales of pirates and +buccaneers. And Jake loved to hint darkly that the best people +shared in the illicit traffic. + +With it all, Jim's sense of right and wrong was in a fair way to +become hopelessly "mixed." Exactly as boys at the seashore are prone +to believe that a pirate is, on the whole, an admirable character, +so these border boys, and especially Jim, had come to feel--only +with more excuse, because of the generally indulgent view of the +community--that smuggling is an occupation in which any one may +engage with credit, and which is much more interesting than most. + +Now it is not likely that Jim's father, a stern, secretive, +obviously prosperous man, with an intermittent business which +took him back and forth across the border, could in all this +gossip escape a touch of suspicion. No one, of course, denied +that he really did deal in lumber and cattle; the fact was +obvious. But there were hints and whispers, shrewd shakings +of the head, and more than one "guessed" that all Edwards's +profits "didn't come from cattle, no, nor lumber, neither." + +Latterly these whispers had become more definite. Pete Lamoury, +a French-Canadian, whom Mr. Edwards had hired as a drover, and +abruptly discharged, was spreading stories about his former +employer which made Blackbeard, the pirate, seem like a babe by +comparison. Pete was not a very credible witness; but still, +building upon a suspicion that already existed, he succeeded in +adding something to its substantiality. + +These stories had come to Jim's ears, and Jim was delighted. The +consideration that, were the stories true, his father was a criminal +did not occur to him at all. Like the foolish, romantic boy he was, +he was simply pleased to think of his father as a man of iron +determination, cool wit, unshakable courage, whom no deputy sheriff +could over-match, and who was leading a life full of excitement and +danger--the smuggler king! The only thing that Jim regretted was +that his father did not let him share in these exploits. He knew he +could be useful! But his father's manner was habitually so +forbidding that Jim did not dare hint a knowledge of these probable +undertakings, much less any desire to share them. + +Poor Mr. Edwards! He loved his boy, but did not in the least know +how to show it. Silent, with a sternness of demeanor which he was +unable wholly to lay aside even in his friendliest moments, much +away from home, and unable to meet the boy on his own level when he +was there, deprived of the wife who might have been his interpreter, +he had no way of becoming acquainted with his son. Anxious in some +way to share in Jim's life, he took the clumsy and mistaken method +of letting him have too much pocket-money. + +Yet if Jim, thus unguided and overindulged, had gone astray in his +conduct, Mr. Edwards was not the man to know his mistake and take +the blame. He had in him a rigidity of moral judgment, a dryness of +mind which made it certain that if Jim did do what he disapproved, +he would visit upon him a punishment at once severe and +unsympathetic. The man's air of cold strength excited in the son +fear as well as admiration; his reserve kept his naturally +affectionate boy at more than arm's length. Poor Mr. Edwards! Poor +Jim! Misunderstanding between them was as sure to occur as the rise +of to-morrow's sun. + +Pat on Jim's speculations about his father's stirring deeds, the +gunshot came echoing through the silent barn. Jim ran to the loft +door and looked out. He saw smoke curling up from the window of his +"den," and knew that it was his own gun that had been fired. Back in +the room, a vague masculine figure moved hastily out of the door. +Jim looked toward the orchard, and caught sight of another man +disappearing in the trees. He was wild with excitement. As he knew +that his father was the only person in the house, he was sure that +his father had fired the shot. + +The tales that he had heard, his belief in his father's life of +adventure, made him conclude that here was some smuggler's quarrel. +So vividly did the notion take possession of his inflamed +imagination that nothing henceforth could shake it. He simply +_knew_ what had happened. + +And his father had fled, leaving all the evidences of his shot +behind him! Jim's loyal heart bounded; here he could help. He +turned, raced across the loft, clattered down the steep, cobwebby +stairs, slipped through the shed passage, through the kitchen, and +on into his own room. + +He knew what to do. Nothing must show that the gun had ever been +used! He set feverishly to work. He swabbed out the weapon, and hung +it on its rack over the mantel. He tossed the rags into the +fireplace and covered them with ashes. He put the shot-pouch and the +powder-flask into their proper drawer. Then he pulled a chair to the +table and set himself to a pretended study of Caesar. If any one +should come, it would look as if he had been quietly studying all +the morning. + +All this had cost considerable self-denial; for of course he boiled +with curiosity about the man in the orchard. He did not dare to go +out there, but now, stealthily glancing out of the window, he saw +his father returning from the garden with long strides. Jim +understood. His father, going out at the front door, had slipped +round to the side of the house, so that it would look as if he had +come from the street. + +He was not surprised that his father looked stern and angry. That +fellow must have done something mighty mean, he thought, to make his +father shoot; and he admired at once the magnanimity and the skill +which had merely winged the man, as he supposed, by way, presumably, +of teaching him a lesson. Then, struck by the boldness and openness +of his father's return to the house, Jim suddenly felt that he had +been foolish; that the cleaning of the gun had not been needed. +What man would dare, after such a lesson, to complain against his +father! + +Mr. Edwards walked straight into Jim's room. Aroused from his nap by +the shot, he had leaped to the window and seen the man fall. He had +then turned and run downstairs so quickly that he had not seen the +fellow half-rise and crawl into the bushes; and, having reached the +spot, he was much relieved, if somewhat staggered, to find no body. +He did find tracks, for this was plowed ground; but they told him +nothing of the wounded man except that he had left in a hurry on a +pair of rather large feet. + +He looked about for a while, and then started toward the house, +determined to have an explanation with Jim. He knew Jim's gun by the +sound of its report, and felt no doubt that the boy had fired the +shot. What sort of culpable accident had happened? + +Suffering still with the splitting headache which he had been trying +to sleep off, angry with Jim for his carelessness, concerned lest +the man were really injured, Mr. Edwards was in his least +compromising mood. + +"How did it happen?" he asked, without preface. His tones were +harsh, and he fixed Jim with stern eyes. + +"How did it happen!" repeated Jim, in pure surprise. Certainly his +father knew much better than he how it had happened. + +"Speak out!" said Mr. Edwards, impatiently. "How did you come to +shoot that man? I want to know about it." + +"Me!" cried Jim, in complete bewilderment. "I--I haven't shot any +man, father! You know I haven't." + +Mr. Edwards, never a man of nice observation, and now bewildered +with anger and headache, took his son's genuine astonishment for +mere pretense and subterfuge. Were not the facts plain? + +"I don't want any nonsense about this," he said incisively. "I +heard your gun. I saw the man fall. No one else but you could +possibly have fired it. It's useless to lie, and I won't stand +it. Tell me at once what happened." + +"I didn't shoot him, father. You _know_ I didn't!" reiterated Jim, +more and more dumfounded. "I don't know how it happened, honest +Injun--I don't, father!" + +Mr. Edwards's mouth shut tight. He swept the room with his eyes +until they rested upon the gun in the rack over the mantelpiece. + +He stepped forward, took it down, and examined it. Holding it in his +hands, he gazed about the floor. A rag which the ashes in the +fireplace had not wholly covered caught his attention. + +"You cleaned the gun and put it away," he said grimly. "Then you +tried to hide the rag with which you cleaned it," and he touched the +bit of cloth sticking from the ashes contemptuously with his foot. +"What do you expect me to think from that?" + +Jim was silent. The boy was unlike his father in many ways, but they +were alike in this: they both were proud. Each would meet an unjust +accusation in silence. And Jim was beginning to show another of his +father's characteristics. A still anger was beginning to burn in him +against this man who accused him of a deed which he himself had +done, and he felt rising within him a stubborn will to endure, not +to surrender. If his father was going to act like that, why, let +him-- + +"Where is your shot-pouch?" asked Mr. Edwards. + +Jim motioned toward the drawer. + +"Is your powder-flask there, too?" + +"Yes." + +Mr. Edwards was silent After all, he was a just man. He was trying, +as well as his headache would let him, to see things straight. + +"It's plain what happened," he said at last. "You had an accident +and got frightened. You cleaned your gun, you hid the rags, you put +away your ammunition, you got your books and pretended to study. +You're afraid to tell the truth now." + +Jim's face flushed hotly, but he kept silent. Such assurance, such +cruelty, he had never imagined. If this was what smugglers were +like--if this was a sample of their tricks-- + +"I'll give you one more chance to tell the truth," said Mr. Edwards. +"Did you do it?" + +"No, I didn't!" said Jim, and his jaw snapped close like his +father's. + +"Very well," said Mr. Edwards. "I'll leave you until you change +your mind. You will stay here. Sarah will bring you bread and milk +at supper-time. If you're willing to talk to me then, you may tell +her that you'd like to see me." + +He turned to go, then paused. + +"It's a serious matter; and all the facts are against you. It would +go hard with you in court. It will go harder if you stick to your +stubborn and foolish lie. One thing more: if you don't choose to +tell the truth, you will have to reckon with the law as well as +with me." + +Mr. Edwards, upon this, shut the door and departed. His was a stern +figure, but the hurt within was very sore. This, then, he reflected +bitterly, was the kind of boy he had. He suffered deeply at the +discovery, which for him was unquestionable. + +Jim felt outraged. He had done his loyal best to save his father +from the consequences of his rash act, and now, with incredible +ingenuity and cool injustice, his father was using his son's acts of +helpfulness to make it appear that he had done the deed. Without a +scruple, his father had made him a scapegoat. + +Jim told himself that he would gladly have taken the blame had his +father, as chief of the band, demanded the sacrifice of this, his +devoted follower. Nay, more, he would have endured the ordeal +without a murmur had his father, deeming it unsafe to enter into +formal explanations, only hinted to him that this was a farce which +they two must play together. If his father had only winked at him! +Surely he might have done that with safety! But not to be admitted +to the secret,--not to be allowed to play the heroic part,--to be +used as an ignoble tool by a father who neither loved him nor knew +his courage,--that was too much! He would not betray his father--no, +a thousand times, no! But the day would come-- + +The afternoon dragged on. Jim sat there in his room, looking out +into the pleasant sunshine, conscious that the boys were playing +"three old cat" in the field not faraway--as rebellious and +magnanimous, as hot and angry, as heroic and morally muddled a boy +as one could wish to see. And looking at the affair from his point +of view, not many people will blame him. It is delightful, of +course, to have a pirate chief for father; but what if he makes you +walk the plank? + +It is amusing to think of Mr. Peaslee and Jim each shut up in his +respective room; but if Mr. Peaslee in his gloomy parlor--faced by +the crayon portrait of his masterful wife, a vase of wax flowers +under a glass dome, the family Bible on a marble-topped table, and +three stiff horsehair-covered chairs--had the advantage of being +able to leave at any moment, he was even more perturbed in mind. + +"Terrible awk'ard mess," he kept repeating to himself, as he mopped +his damp forehead with his handkerchief, "terrible awk'ard." And +indeed it would be awkward for a respectable citizen with political +aspirations to be accused before a grand jury of which he is a +member of assault with a dangerous weapon upon an inoffensive man. + +Mr. Peaslee's reflections rose in a strophe of hope and fell in an +antistrophe of despair. + +"'T ain't likely it hurt him any--just bird shot," said Hope. + +"Bird shot's mighty irritatin'--specially to a wrathy fellow," said +Despair. + +And alternating thus, his thoughts ran on: "Bird shot'll show I +didn't have any serious _in_tent; but mebbe a piece of the marble +struck him. He went off mighty lively; don't seem as if he'd been +hurt _much_; more scared hurt, likely. But he might have been hurt +bad, arm or suthin', mebbe. Marble! 'T ain't anythin' but baked +clay; split all to pieces prob'ly--but ye can't tell. I've heard ye +can shoot a taller candle through an inch plank--and that's +consid'able softer than a marble. And that pesky cat's jest as +frisky as ever!" + +Had any one seen him? There certainly had not been any one in the +street, but where had been Mr. Edwards, Jim, the housekeeper? Where +had his own wife been? There were windows from which she might have +seen him returning, some from which she might even have seen him +fire the fatal shot. But pshaw, there now! Probably no one had seen +him at all, not even his wife, not even his victim! Probably no one +would ever find out. + +"Must have been some worthless feller, stealin' apples, mebbe, who +won't dare make a fuss. 'T ain't likely I'll ever hear anythin' of +it. 'T ain't no use sayin' anythin' till suthin' happens. What folks +don't know don't hurt 'em none." + +The structure of comfort which he thus built himself was shaky +indeed, but it had to serve. He nerved himself to meet his wife. He +must not excite her suspicion by too long an absence. She was +doubtless full of curiosity, for of course she had heard the shot, +and would expect him to know what it meant. + +It would not do to seem to enter the house by the front door, sacred +to formal occasions, so, sneaking outdoors again, he slipped round +to the side of the house, and with much trepidation went into the +kitchen. + +His wife began the moment she saw him. "Well, of all the crazy +carryings on!" she cried. "What's the Ed'ards boy firin' off guns +for, right under peaceable folks' windows? I'm goin' to speak to Mr. +Ed'ards right off." + +"Now don't ye, Sarepty, now don't ye!" said Mr. Peaslee, in alarm. + +Relieved as he was to find himself unsuspected, he did not like the +idea of having his wife pick a quarrel with Mr. Edwards for what he +himself had done! The less said about that shot the better he would +be pleased. + +"For the land's sake, why not, I should like to know?" + +"Well, now, Sarepty, I wouldn't. That Ed'ards boy ain't more of a +boy than most boys, I guess. Always seemed a real peaceable little +feller. And Ed'ards is kinder touchy, I guess. It might make hard +feelin'. 'T wouldn't look well for us to speak, bein' newcomers so. +I wouldn't, Sarepty, I wouldn't. Mebbe some time I'll slide in a +word, just slide it in kinder easy, if he does it again." + +And Mr. Peaslee looked appealingly at his wife through his big +spectacles, his eyes looking very large and pathetic through the +strong lenses. + +"Humph!" said his wife, unmoved. "I ain't afraid of Ed'ards, if you +be." + +Nor could she be moved from her determination. Mr. Peaslee was +vastly disturbed. + +But presently he forgot this small annoyance in greater ones. That +evening after tea, when he went up to the post-office, he heard that +Pete Lamoury had been shot by Jim Edwards, and was now in bed with +his wounds. Jim's arrest was predicted. Young Farnsworth, who kept +the crockery store, told him the news. And presently Jake Hibbard, +the worst "shyster" in the village, shuffled in--noticeable anywhere +for his suit of rusty black, his empty sleeve pinned to his coat, +the green patch over his eye, and his tobacco-stained lips. He +confirmed the report. + +"Pete's hurt bad," he said, shaking his head, "hurt bad. I've taken +his case. Young Edwards is going to see trouble." + +The speech frightened poor Mr. Peaslee, and he was hardly reassured +by the skeptical smile of Squire Tucker, and his remark that he +would believe that Lamoury was hurt when he saw him. The squire had +small faith in either Lamoury or Hibbard. He knew them both. + +But Mr. Peaslee returned home with dragging feet. Silent and +preoccupied all the evening, he went to bed early--but not to sleep. +Long he lay awake and tossed, while the Calico Cat wailed on the +rear fence--exultant, triumphant, insulting. + +And when he did finally get to sleep, he dreamed that he was being +prosecuted in court by--was it Jake Hibbard, with the green patch +over his eye, or the Calico Cat, with the black patch over hers? He +could not tell, study the fantastic, ominous figure of his +prosecutor as he would! + + + + +[Illustration: Cat sitting on post looking forward.] + +III + + +Immediately after breakfast on Monday morning Mr. Peaslee, in a mood +of desperate self-sacrifice, started up-town to buy a knife--for +Jim! + +All day long on Sunday, when he had nothing to do but think, he had +struggled between his fear of exposure and his sorrow for the boy. +The upshot was a determination to "make it up to him" by giving him +a knife. He had in his mind's eye a marvel--stag-horn handle, four +blades, saw, awl, file, hoof-hook, corkscrew! Such a knife as that, +he felt, would console any boy for being arrested. "Most likely 't +will end right there," he said to himself. + +"I guess I'd better go to Farley's," he thought, as he walked along. +"Farley owes money to the bank. He won't dare to stick it on like +the rest." + +But when he entered the store and looked about, his face fell. Mr. +Farley was not there! Willie Potter, Farley's clerk, a young man +peculiarly distasteful to Solomon, lounged forward with a toothpick +in his mouth. Mr. Peaslee had half a mind to go, but the thought of +poor Jim held him back. + +"What will you have to-day, Mr. Peaslee?" inquired Willie, affably. +He winked at young Dannie Snow, who sat grinning on a keg of nails, +as much as to say, "Watch me have some fun with the old man." + +"I thought mebbe I'd look at some jack-knives," said Solomon, eyeing +Willie distrustfully. + +"Yes, sir, I guess you want the best, regardless of expense," said +Willie, impudently. He well understood his customer's dislike for +spending a penny. Stepping behind the counter, he drew from the +show-case and held up admiringly the most costly knife in the store. + +"Here, now, what do you say to this? Very superior article. Best +horn, ten blades, best razor steel. Three-fifty, and cheap at the +price. Can't be beat this side of Boston. Just the article for you, +sir." + +And he winked again at Dannie Snow, who was pink with suppressed +merriment. + +"Well, now, well, now," said Solomon, taking the knife in his hand +and pretending to examine it closely. "That's a pretty knife, to be +sure,--to--be--sure. Real showy, ain't it? Looks as if 't was made +to sell--all outside and no money in the bank, like some young +fellers ye see." + +Dannie Snow giggling outright, Mr. Peaslee turned and gazed at him +in mild inquiry. Young Potter turned a dull red. He was addicted to +radiant cravats and gauzy silk handkerchiefs, and from his "salary" +of eight dollars a week he did not save much. + +But just the same, Mr. Peaslee had been staggered at the price. +Pretending still to examine the knife which Willie had given him, he +squinted past it at the contents of the glass show-case on which his +elbows rested. There all sorts of knives confronted him, each in its +little box, in which was stuck a card stating the price,--$1.50, +$1.25, 90c, 45c. The cheapest one would eat up the proceeds of three +dozen eggs at fifteen cents a dozen--a good price for eggs! He had +forgotten that knives cost so much. + +"A good knife ain't any use to a boy," he reflected. "Break it in a +day, lose it in a week. 'T wouldn't be any real kindness to him. +Just wastin' money." + +He pointed finally to a stubby, wooden-handled knife with one big +blade, marked 25c. + +"There, now," said he, "that's what I call a knife. Good and strong, +and no folderol. Guarantee the steel, don't ye?" + +He opened the blade and drew it speculatively across his calloused +old thumb, while with his mild blue eyes, which his spectacles +enormously exaggerated, he fixed the humbled Willie. + +"That's a good knife for the money," said that young man. +"Hand-forged." + +"Sho now, ye don't say so," said Mr. Peaslee. "I guess ye give a +discount, don't ye? Farley always allows me a little suthin'." + +"You can have it for twenty-one cents," said Willie, much irritated. +"Charge it?" + +"Guess I better pay cash," Mr. Peaslee answered hastily. If it were +charged, his wife would question the item. + +Producing an enormous wallet--very worn and very flat--from his +cavernous pocket, he deliberately searched until he found a +Canadian ten-cent piece, and adding to it enough to make up the +price, handed it to Potter, and left the store. + +Mr. Peaslee, who remembered no gift from his father other than a +very occasional big copper cent, thought himself pretty generous. +Had he not spent pretty nearly the price of two dozen eggs? + +But now a question occurred to him which he had not thought of +before. How was he to get the knife to Jim? A gift from him would +excite surprise, perhaps suspicion. It must not be known who had +sent it. Ah, there was the post office! Going in, he pushed the +little box through the barred window. + +"Say, Cyrus," he said to the postmaster, "kinder weigh up this +consignment for me, will ye?" + +The postmaster weighed the box. + +"That will cost you six cents," he said. + +"Thank ye," returned Mr. Peaslee, and dropping the box into his deep +pocket, departed. Half a dozen eggs more to get it to his next-door +neighbor! + +"'T ain't right," he muttered, "'t ain't right." + +Uncertain what to do with his gift, but feeling, on the whole, +pretty virtuous, Mr. Peaslee now started home. He thought that +Jim would not be going to school, but would wait at home for the +threatened coming of the constable; but still he was not sure, +and he wanted to keep the boy under his eye. + +Suddenly he straightened. There was Judge Ames walking up the +street, valise in hand, just from the early morning train. He had +come a few days before the opening of court. Mr. Peaslee knew him +slightly, and stood much in awe of him. He was greatly pleased when +the judge stopped and shook hands with him. + +"I am glad to hear, Mr. Peaslee," said the judge, in his precise, +lawyer-like utterance, "that you are to be on the grand jury. We +need men like you there." + +"Thank ye, judge, thank ye," said Mr. Peaslee, overcome. And he +walked on home, quite convinced that a person of his importance in +the community should not be sacrificed to the comfort of any small +boy. + +"And I've done right by the little feller, I've done right," he +assured himself, feeling the knife. + +As he turned into his own yard, he cast an anxious eye over to +the Edwards house. There sat Jim, elbows on knees, chin on hands, +staring into space. Jim was thinking that his father, had he been +a pirate chief, would not have wiped a filial tear from his eye +whenever he thought of his mother; and the boy's face showed it. +The spectacle greatly depressed Mr. Peaslee. The smallest, faintest +question entered his mind whether a twenty-five-cent knife would +console such melancholy. + +To give himself a countenance while he watched events, Solomon got a +rake and began gathering together the few autumn leaves which had +fluttered down in his front yard. It was not useless labor, for +they would "come in handy" later in "banking up" the house. + +And so, presently, he saw Sam Barton, the constable, his big +shoulders rolling as he walked, advancing down the street. Mr. +Peaslee expected him; nevertheless his appearance gave him a +disagreeable shock. Suppose the constable had been coming for him! + +"Ain't arrestin' anybody down this way, be ye?" he called, with a +feeble attempt at jocularity. Perhaps, after all-- + +"Looks like it," said Barton, succinctly. + +Mr. Peaslee stepped to the fence. "'T aint likely they'll do much +to a leetle feller like that, I guess," he said, searching the +constable's face. + +"Dunno," said Barton, passing on. + +Solomon, much concerned, leaned on his rake and watched him enter +the Edwards house. Jim had disappeared; there was some delay. + +Mrs. Peaslee came to the door. + +"Arrestin' that Ed'ards boy, be they, Solomon?" she said. "Well, +serve him right, _I_ say, shootin' guns off so. Like father, like +son. _I_ dunno as _'t was_ the son. I'd as soon believe it of the +father. Everybody knows Lamoury and he's been mixed up together. +Some of his smugglin' tricks, prob'ly." + +Mrs. Peaslee had taken a violent dislike to her taciturn neighbor, +and she did not care who knew it. Her shrill voice seemed to her +husband painfully loud, and, indeed, it was beginning to attract the +attention of the group of children who had gathered about the +Edwards gate. + +"Sh!" hissed Solomon. "Ed'ards might hear ye. 'T would hurt us if he +should take his account out of the bank." + +"Humph!" exclaimed Mrs. Peaslee. "Well," she added, "you go to the +hearin'. Justice is suthin', I guess." + +But she said no more, and with her husband and the children awaited +events--a silent group in the silent street before the silent house. +The children's eyes grew bigger and bigger with excitement. Was not +Jimmy Edwards going to be arrested for mur-r-rder? the horrid +whisper ran. One small boy, beginning to whimper, asked if Jimmy was +"going to be hung." + +The occasion was solemn even to the older eyes of Mr. Peaslee. +"S'posin' it was me," he said to himself. + +Presently Mr. Edwards, Jim, and the constable emerged from the +house. Jim looked white and frightened, but was bravely trying to +bear himself like a man. Mr. Edwards, his long, shaven upper lip +stiff as a board, looked stern and uncompromising. Barton was as big +and good-humored as ever. + +He turned upon the little boys and girls, and, waving his arm, +cried, "Scat!" They fell back--about ten feet. Thus the procession +formed: Barton and Jim, then Mr. Edwards, and--at a barely +respectful distance--the crowd of youngsters. + +Mr. Peaslee, much moved, but trying hard not to show it, thrust his +rake under the veranda with a great show of care, and joined Mr. +Edwards--much to that gentleman's surprise. Solomon's heart was +throbbing with a great resolution. + +"I always aim to be neighborly," said he, nervously lowering his +voice, for he was conscious of his wife, still standing on the +veranda. "Thought I'd just step along, too. I cal'late mebbe you'd +like comp'ny on his bail bond," and he jerked his thumb toward Jim. + +It was out; he was committed, and Solomon heaved a great sigh, he +knew not whether of relief or dismay. There was not indeed any risk +in signing with Edwards, who was "good" for any bail that the +justice was likely to require; but what would Mrs. Peaslee say if +she knew! He glanced apprehensively toward the house. + +His wife had gone in; but, evil omen! there, sitting on a +fence-post, was the Calico Cat. She was placidly washing her face; +and as her paw twinkled past the big black spot round her right eye, +she appeared, at that distance, to be greeting him with a derisive +wink. + +Mr. Edwards, although his mouth shut tighter than ever at the +mention of bail, was surprised and touched. "Thank you," he said. +"It's kind of you to think of it." + +In the village, Sam ushered them into the musty law office of Squire +Tucker, justice of the peace. The squire was a large, fat man, +clothed in rusty black, with a carelessly knotted string tie pendent +beneath a rumpled turn-down collar. He had a smooth-shaven, fat +face, lighted by shrewd and kindly eyes, which gleamed at you now +through, now over, his glasses. When the party entered he was +writing, and merely looked up under his big eyebrows long enough to +wave them all to chairs. + +Jim sat down, with the constable behind him and his father at his +left, and studied the man in whose hands he thought that his fate +rested. He watched the squire's pen go from paper to ink, ink to +paper, and listened to its scratch, scratch, and to the buzz of a +big fly against the dirty window-pane. Ashamed to look at any one, +he looked at the lawyer's big ink-well--a great, circular affair of +mottled brown wood. It had several openings, each one with its own +little cork attached with a short string to the side of the stand. +He had never seen one like it before. + +Then some one entered the room. Jim, looking sidewise, recognized +Jake Hibbard, and began covertly to study his face. He knew that +this flabby-faced, dirty man, with the little screwed-up eyes, and +the big screwed-up mouth, stained brown at the corners with tobacco, +was Pete Lamoury's lawyer. Familiar for many years to his +contemptuous young eyes, Jake now looked sinister and dangerous. +What were these men going to do to him? + +Amid his fluttering emotions and rushing thoughts one thing only +stood fixed and clear: he would not tell on his father. Some day, +when all trouble was past, he would let his father know that he knew +all the time. Then he guessed his father would be sorry and ashamed. +Now, since his father would not take him into his confidence, he +would not pretend he did the shooting. That would be his only +revenge. + +Finally, Squire Tucker, pushing his writing aside, ran his fingers +through the great mass of his tumbled gray hair, and looked +quizzically at Jim over his glasses. "So this," he said, "is the +hardened ruffian of whom our esteemed fellow citizen, Mr. Lamoury, +complains?" + +And indeed Jim, although stubborn, did not seem very dangerous. + +The squire looked about the room. + +"Is he represented by counsel?" he asked. + +"No, I represent him," said Mr. Edwards. + +"The charge against him is assault with intent to kill, I believe?" +and he looked with demure inquiry at Jake Hibbard, who nodded with a +wrath-clouded face. Tucker was not taking the case seriously. + +"Well, young man," said the justice to Jim, "what's your +explanation of this?" + +"We'll waive examination," said Mr. Edwards, briefly. + +The squire leaned back in his chair. "I suppose," he said, with +evident reluctance, "I shall have to hold him for the grand jury. +But I guess the safety of the community won't be greatly threatened +if I let him out on bail. I should think a couple of hundred would +do. I suppose there'll be no difficulty about the bond?" + +The tone of the proceedings suited Mr. Peaslee well. In his +nervousness and abstraction he had backed up to the rusty, empty +iron stove at the end of the room, and stood there, with spread +coat-tails, listening intently. On hearing the amount of bail, he +gave a sigh of relief. His incautious offer had brought him no +dangerous risk. + +Mr. Edwards, however, did not answer. Instead, consulting the +justice with a look, he turned and beckoned Jim to follow him into +the hall. + +"James," he said, "this is the last chance I shall give you. If you +confess to me, I will see that you have proper bail. If you do not, +I shall let the law take its course. You may choose." + +Jim was exasperated. If his father wished to be mean, let him _be_ +mean; at least he might drop this farce, this irritating pretense. +He lost his temper. + +"I don't care what you do!" he said fiercely. "Send me to jail if +you want to. I guess I can stand it!" + +"Is that all you have to say?" + +Jim replied with a rebellious glance. + +"Very well," said his father. "Then we will go back." Once in the +room, he stepped to the squire's desk, and talked with him in low +tones. + +Then the justice turned to Jim again, a new gravity in his jolly +face. + +"Your father," he said, "refuses to go on your bond. Have you any +sureties of your own to offer?" + +"No, sir," said Jim. + +Mr. Peaslee was outraged. What kind of a father was this! He half +started forward to offer to be one of the two sureties which the law +required, but--no, he dare not. The second surety might prove to be +any sort of worthless fellow. But Jim in jail! He had not for a +moment dreamed of that. He was very indignant with Mr. Edwards. + +Meanwhile, Jake Hibbard was studying Mr. Edwards's face with puzzled +attention. He had supposed that the lumber dealer, whom he knew to +be well-to-do, would have paid anything, signed any bond, to protect +his boy from jail. He was disconcerted. He drew his one hand across +his mouth nervously. + +"Well, Mr. Barton," said Squire Tucker, "I don't see but what you'll +have to take this young man over to Hotel Calkins." + +"Hotel Calkins" was the name which local wit gave to the county +jail. The words sent a cold shiver down Mr. Peaslee's back. They +stung him into generosity. As Barton and his prisoner, followed by +Mr. Edwards and Jake, brushed by him on their way to the door, he +slipped the knife into Jim's hand. When the boy, trying to keep back +the tears, looked up inquiringly, he murmured, in agitation:-- + +"Don't ye care, sonny! Now don't ye care!" + +He was greatly stirred--or he would not have been so incautious as +to make his present in person and in public. + + + + +[Illustration: Cat lying on fence.] + +IV + + +When Nancy Ware, Jim's pretty teacher, heard that Mr. Edwards had +let Jim go to jail, she was hotly indignant. She liked Jim, and +laughed a little over him, for she knew he adored her. In her view +he was a clumsy, nice boy; awkward and shy, to be sure, but +rewarding her friendliness now and then with a really entrancing +grin. She liked his imagination, she liked his loyalty, and she +liked his dogged resolution. + +She heard the news at the noon hour on Monday, and after her dinner +she hurried at once to the store of Fred Farnsworth. To him she +roundly declared that Mr. Edwards was a brute, a view of the man +which struck Fred as a bit highly colored. + +Fred was thirty-one or thirty-two years old, a sensible, humorous +fellow, with considerable personal force. He was very proud of the +handsome shop over which hung the sign, "Frederick W. Farnsworth, +Fine Crockery and Glassware," and still prouder of his engagement to +Miss Ware. He was the second grand juryman from Ellmington. + +"Oh," said he, "Edwards isn't a bad sort of man. He isn't very +sociable. I guess he wouldn't take much impudence, even from that +boy of his. They say Jim wouldn't own up, and the old man won't do +anything for him till he does." + +"If Jimmie Edwards says he didn't fire that gun, he didn't," said +Nancy, positively. "Jimmie isn't the lying kind. I know Mr. +Edwards. I ought not to call him a brute, I suppose. But he's one +of these obstinate men who will do anything they've made up their +minds to do, even if you prove to them that they're wrong, even if +it hurts them more than it does any one else. He's just got it into +his head that Jimmie ought to confess, and he'd let him go to the +gallows before he'd back down." + +Nancy spoke with animation, her color rose and her eyes grew bright, +and Fred looked and listened admiringly. He was skeptical about Jim, +but he was struck with the accuracy of the portrait of Edwards. + +"I guess that's about so," he said. + +"And when I think of that poor boy shut up in that awful jail, +locked into a cell, when he ought to be out-of-doors playing ball +and having a good time, it makes my blood boil!" continued Miss +Ware. "Now, Fred," she concluded, with pretty decision, "you must +stop it." + +Fred laughed. + +"Isn't that a pretty large order?" he asked. "Squire Tucker put him +there. I guess it's legal." + +"You can do _something_," said his betrothed. "Go to see Jimmie. See +if you can't find out what's the matter. Jimmie likes you, perhaps +he'll tell." + +"I didn't know Jim had any particular partiality for me," said Fred, +but he felt kindlier toward the boy in spite of himself. + +"If you can only find out what really happened, I know we can get +him out," averred Miss Ware. + +"Why don't you go yourself?" said Farnsworth. + +"I can't,--not till five o'clock. Of course I'm going then!" + +"That's about four hours off," said Farnsworth. + +"But I want something done _now_!" exclaimed Nancy. + +"Oh!" said Fred, humorously. + +"Will you go?" + +"Of course. I'll start at once." Fred dropped his banter. "I'll tell +you what, Nancy. I may not be able to do much right off, but I'll +promise you that he has a fair chance before the grand jury." + +Farnsworth started at once for the jail. It was a poor place for a +boy, he reflected, as he rang the jailer's private bell. Calkins +himself was not there, and his wife came to the door. She knew +Farnsworth; and when he asked if he might see Jim she laughed a +little, and told him to "step right in." + +"Hotel Calkins" was a brick building which looked pleasantly like a +private dwelling, as, in fact, a good half of it was. In this front +half dwelt the jailer; in the rear half, separated from the living +quarters by a thick wall and heavy doors, was the jail proper. There +Farnsworth expected to be led. + +But not at all! Mrs. Calkins ushered him into her own kitchen, where +a wash-tub showed what she was doing, where the afternoon sun and +sweet September air poured in at the open windows, and where a +canary in its cage was singing cheerily. + +Here Farnsworth was much surprised to see Jim, curled up in Mrs. +Calkins's own rocking-chair, eating a large red-cheeked apple which +he was dividing with a brand-new knife! + +"Squire Tucker told Mark," said Mrs. Calkins, enjoying the joke, +"that he guessed James would like our society full as well as that +of the prisoners." + +As for Jim, he grinned affably, and took another slice of his apple. + +The awful picture which Miss Ware had drawn of Jim's dreadful +isolation and misery and her own indignant sympathy rushed upon +Farnsworth's mind, and were so comically out of relation with the +facts that he sank weakly into the nearest chair and roared. + +"This--is--the way--you go to jail--is it?" he gasped. + +Mrs. Calkins smiled in sympathy, and Jim, half-suspecting that he +ought to be offended at this frank mirth, looked sheepishly at the +floor. + +Farnsworth recovered himself. "A mighty good friend of yours," he +said, "sent me over here." + +"Miss Ware?" asked Jim, much pleased. + +"Yes. She's coming herself right after school, loaded down with +things to console your desolate prison life, I believe," and +Farnsworth had to stop to laugh again. "But she wanted me to start +right in and help you out of this, and that's what I'm here for." + +"Thank you," said Jim, embarrassed, but polite. But it struck +Farnsworth, as he said afterward, that the boy "shied" a little. + +"Miss Ware says," he went on, "that she doesn't believe you fired +that shot, and she wants you to tell me exactly what did happen. Now +if we can show that you didn't shoot, I can get you out of here +quick." + +"What they going to do to me?" said Jim. + +"That depends. It makes a difference how much Lamoury's hurt. The +penalty might be severe if he's got a bad wound. But even then, if +we could show that you didn't know he was there, or that the gun +went off by accident, or that you were firing at something else, it +would make a big difference. And if you can show that you weren't +there at all--why, out you go, scot-free. But, Jim, you can see +yourself that if you don't tell what you know, everybody'll think +that you shot and meant to hurt Lamoury, and then it might go pretty +hard with you. Now come, tell me what happened." + +"You'd better tell, Jimmie," said Mrs. Calkins, straightening up +from her wash-tub. "You won't find any better friends than Mr. +Farnsworth and Miss Ware." + +The young man, as he talked, watched the boy curiously. Jim flushed +and squirmed, and looked now at the floor and now out at the window, +with a marked uneasiness and embarrassment that greatly puzzled his +friend. And when he stopped, and the boy had to answer, his distress +became really pitiable. + +"Can't you tell me, Jim?" Mr. Farnsworth hazarded, after a little, +putting a kindly hand on the boy's arm, while Mrs. Calkins stood +quiet by her tub in friendly expectation. + +But Jim remained dumb. + +After waiting a little, Farnsworth, seeing the boy so miserable, +took pity on him. + +"Well, never mind, Jim," he said. "You needn't tell if you don't +want to." + +He would have to let Nancy coax it out of him. But he was puzzled, +impressed with a sense of mystery and with a growing conviction that +the boy was shielding some one else. He began to talk cheerfully of +other things, hoping that Jim might perhaps drop a useful hint, or, +at least, that the boy would gain confidence in him as a friend. By +chance he asked:-- + +"Where did you get the knife, Jim?" + +"Mr. Peaslee gave it to me." + +"Peaslee!" exclaimed Farnsworth. He well knew the "closeness" of his +fellow juror. + +"It isn't much of a knife," said Jim, apologetic but pleased. Jim's +views of the world were changing: his father, although a bandit +chief, had let him go to jail, while this stingy old man, with no +halo of adventure about him, gave him a knife; and here were Miss +Ware and Mr. Farnsworth and Mrs. Calkins and the jailer, none of +them smugglers, who were very kind. + +Farnsworth rose to go. Then Jim, summoning all his courage, asked a +question which had long been trembling on his lips. + +"What do they do to smugglers, Mr. Farnsworth?" + +"Fine 'em, or put 'em in jail, or both. Why?" + +"Nothing much," said Jim, but obviously he was cast down. + +Farnsworth walked thoughtfully toward his store. "By George!" he +thought suddenly. "I wonder--" + +The gossip about the senior Edwards had occurred to him, and at the +same time he remembered the quarrel with Lamoury. + +"But what nonsense!" he thought. "If Edwards wanted to shoot any one +he wouldn't do it in his own back yard, and he wouldn't treat his +own boy that way, either." Still, the idea clung to him. + +And then he thought of Nancy, and chuckled. "If she comes to the +store before she goes to the jail I won't tell her what she'll find +there," he promised himself. + +Meanwhile, Mr. Peaslee felt a growing discomfort. He ate his dinner +and answered the brisk questions of his wife with increasing +preoccupation. Like Miss Ware, he was picturing Jim solitary and +suffering in his lonely cell. With the utmost sincerity and +ingenuousness he condemned Mr. Edwards. + +"Hain't he got any feelin' for his own flesh and blood?" he asked +himself. "'T ain't right; somebody'd ought to deal with him." + +As he pottered about his yard after dinner, he finally worked +himself up to the point of speaking to Edwards himself. + +Even his righteous indignation would not have led him to this +undertaking had he known Mr. Edwards better, or realized the +father's present mood. Hurt exceedingly by Jim's lying and contempt +of his wishes, hurt even more through his disappointed desire to +help his boy, Mr. Edwards was sore and sensitive, discontented both +with Jim and with himself. He did not want Jim in jail, he told +himself; and the neighbors who were so uniformly assuming that he +did might better give their thoughts to matters that concerned them +more. He would get the boy out of jail quick enough if the boy would +only let him. + +As he stepped out of the house to do an errand at the barn, Mr. +Peaslee hailed him over the dividing fence. Somewhat put out, Mr. +Edwards nevertheless turned and walked toward his neighbor. Mr. +Peaslee, leaning over the fence, began. + +"Ed'ards," he said, reaching out an anxious, deprecatory hand, +"don't ye think you're jest a leetle mite hard on that boy o' +yourn--" + +He got no further. Edwards gave him a look that made him shiver, and +cut the conversation short by turning on his heel and marching +toward the barn. + +"Dretful ha'sh man, dretful ha'sh!" Mr. Peaslee muttered to himself. +"Nice, likely boy as ever was. If I had a boy like that, I swan I +wouldn't treat him so con-sarned mean!" + +He turned away much shocked, and saw the Calico Cat watching him +ironically from the chicken-house. "Drat that cat!" said he. "I +ain't goin' to stay round here--not with that beast grinning at me." + +He got his hat and started up-town, not knowing in the least what he +intended to do there. He stopped, however, at every shop window and +studied baseballs, bats, tivoli-boards, accordions. He was beginning +to wonder if a twenty-five-cent knife was enough to console Jim for +his unmerited incarceration. + +He was gazing forlornly in at the window of Upham's drugstore, where +some half-dozen harmonicas were displayed, and wondering if Jim +would be allowed to play one in his dungeon cell, when Hibbard +spoke to him. + +He drew the lawyer aside, and, peering closely into his face with +anxious eyes exaggerated by his spectacles, said insinuatingly:-- + +"Jest 'twixt you and me kinder confidential, Pete ain't hurt bad, +is he? You don't mind sayin', do ye?" + +Jake drew himself up, surprised and suspicious. Did the old fool +think him as innocent as all that? + +"He's hurt bad, Mr. Peaslee, bad," he said, with dignity. "Of +course it isn't fatal--unless it should mortify." He waved his +hand deprecatingly. "I can't imagine what that Edwards boy used +in his gun." + +Mr. Peaslee knew: the marble! He trembled. Still, he knew Jake's +reputation. A shrewd thought visited his troubled mind. + +"What doctor's seein' him?" he asked. + +"Doctor!" exclaimed Hibbard, irritated. "Doctor! You know these +French Canadians. They're worse scared of a doctor than of the +evil one himself. Pete's usin' some old woman's stuff on his +wounds,--bear's grease, rattlesnake oil, catnip tea,--what do I +know? I can't make him see a doctor." + +"Some doctor'll have to testify to court, won't they?" persisted +Mr. Peaslee. + +"Oh, I'll look out for that, don't you fear!" the lawyer said +easily; but nevertheless he made a pretext for leaving the old man. + +Perhaps had Mr. Peaslee's fears not been so keen, he would have +taken some comfort from this conversation; but as it was he felt +that the lawyer was dangerous; he feared that Pete really was badly +hurt. It would go hard, then, with Jim. It would, by the same +token, go hard with himself should he confess. + +Suddenly he turned and rushed into Upham's store. + +"Upham," said he, "I want _that_!" + +And he pointed straight at a big harmonica with a strange and +wonderful "harp attachment"--bright-colored and of amazing +possibilities. + +Upham, a neat little gentleman with nicely trimmed side-whiskers, +who was always fluttered by the unexpected, hesitated, half opened +his mouth, and then forgot either to shut it or to speak. + +"Why, Mr. Peaslee," he stammered at last, "it's real expensive! +You--it's two dollars and seventy-five cents." + +"Don't care nothin' what it costs," said Mr. Peaslee, who was in a +hurry for fear lest he should think twice. + +When he came out of the store with the harmonica in his hands, he +almost stumbled into Miss Ware. She was on her way to Jim, and, of +course, her mind was full of his affairs. Here was Mr. Edwards's +next neighbor. She impulsively stopped to ask if the misguided +father still held to his resolution about Jim. + +Mr. Peaslee had reason to know that he did, and said so. "I tell +ye, Miss Ware," said he, with much emotion, "he belongs to a +stony-hearted generation, and that's a fact. He ain't got any +compassion in him, seems though." + +"It's a shame, a perfect shame!" exclaimed Nancy. + +"'T ain't right," said Mr. Peaslee, with a warmth which surprised +the young woman, and made her warm to this old man, whom she had +always thought so selfish. "'T ain't right--your own flesh and blood +so." + +"Well," said Miss Ware, "I'm going to the jail now. I want to see +Jimmie. It must be awful there." + +"Well, now, that's real kind of ye," responded Mr. Peaslee. "I +wonder now if you'd mind taking this along to him," and he offered +her the paper parcel. "It's a harmonica, I guess they call it. It's +real handsome. It cost consid'able--a pretty consid'able sum. I feel +kinder sorry for the leetle feller, and I don't grudge it a mite." +And he kept repeating, in a tone which suggested whistling to keep +your courage up, "Not a mite, not a mite." + +Miss Ware smothered a laugh on hearing what the present was. She +must not hurt the feelings of this kind old man! + +"Oh," said the little hypocrite, "that's nice! Jimmie'll be so +pleased." + +But perhaps the harmonica pleased Jim as much as the schoolbooks +which the school-teacher, with a solicitous eye on her pupil's +standing in his studies, was taking to him. Saying good-by to Mr. +Peaslee, Miss Ware, books and harmonica in hand, went on her way to +visit the afflicted boy in his dungeon. Meanwhile Jim, turning the +wringer for Mrs. Calkins, and listening to her stories of "Mark's" +prowess with all sorts of malefactors, was having an excellent time. +He had decided to be a sheriff when he grew up. + + + + +[Illustration: Cat curled up on floor.] + +V + + +The day of the assembling of the grand jury for the September term +of the Adams County court finally dawned. How Mr. Peaslee had looked +forward to that day! How often had he pictured the scene--the bustle +about the court house; the agreeable crowd of black-coated lawyers, +with their clever talk, their good stories; the grave judge, and the +still graver side judges; the greetings and hand-shakings amid much +joking and laughter; the county gossip among the grand jurors in the +informal moments before they filed into the courtroom to be sworn +and to receive the judge's charge; himself, finally, in his best +black coat and cherished beaver hat, there in the midst of +it--important, weighty, respected, a public man! + +He had cherished the vision of himself walking up the village street +on that first morning, a dignitary returning the cordial and +admiring salutes of his village friends. He had seen himself later +in the jury-room, shrewdly "leading" the reluctant witness, +delivering weighty opinions on the bearing of testimony, and making +all respect him as a marvel of conservatism, dignity, and wisdom. +This was to be one of the most important and pleasurable days of his +life, the rung in a ladder of preferment which reached as high as +the state-house dome! + +And when that day came, it rained; steadily, gloomily, fiercely +rained. Solomon was not allowed to wear his best clothes. When, +peering out of the window, he hopefully said he "guessed mebbe 't +was goin' to clear," his wife invited him tartly to "wait till it +did." + +She insisted that he put on his every-day clothes, and thus arrayed, +and without meeting a single villager to realize the importance of +his errand, he waded up to the court house, the pelting rain +rattling on his old umbrella, the fierce wind almost wrenching it +inside out. + +There was, of course, no parade on the courthouse steps for the +benefit of a wondering village, as there would have been had the day +been fine. Instead, the men, steaming with wet, stood about +uncomfortably in the corridors, muddy with the mud from their feet, +wet with the drip from their umbrellas. The air in the court house +was close, and every one felt uncomfortable and depressed. + +Mr. Peaslee, having greeted three or four men whom he knew, found +himself jammed into a corner behind four or five jurors who were +strangers to him, but he was too disheartened to try to scrape +acquaintance with them. He felt lonely and helpless. + +He looked enviously over to the other end of the corridor, where +Fred Farnsworth, Eben Sampson, and Albion Small were standing +together. In contrast with the others, these men were laughing. +Albion was "consid'able of a joker," Mr. Peaslee reflected gloomily. + +Then old Abijah Keith stormed in, and in his high, shrill voice +began immediately to utter his unfavorable opinion of everything and +everybody. + +"Well, if he ain't here again!" exclaimed, in disgust, Hiram +Hopkins, one of the men in front of Solomon. "Cantankerest old +lummux in the whole state--just lots on upsetting things. Abijah!" +he snorted. "Can't Abijah, I call him!" + +Mr. Peaslee shrank back into his corner nervously. He knew this old +tyrant and dreaded him. + +Not much was done that first day. The clerk swore them; the judge +charged them, and appointed the sensible, steady Sampson foreman. +Then they retired to the jury-room--a big, desolate place, wherein +was a long, ink-spattered table surrounded by wooden armchairs and +spittoons. The grand jurors seated themselves, and were solemnly +silent while John Paige, the state's attorney, began the dull task +of presenting cases. Mr. Peaslee found that he had nothing brilliant +to say. + +As a matter of fact, his own troubles were making him see everything +yellow. The jurymen did not seem to him as agreeable a lot as he had +expected, and as for Paige, he irritated Solomon beyond measure. + +Paige was an able young man and a good lawyer, and was entitled to +the position which he had attained so young; but, the son of a man +of rather exceptional means, he had been educated at a city college, +and had a sophistication which Solomon viewed with deep suspicion. +Moreover, he discarded the garb which Mr. Peaslee regarded as +sacred. He was not in black. Instead, he wore a light gray business +suit, his collar was very knowing in cut, and his cravat of dark +blue was caught with a gold pin. + +"Citified smart Aleck," was Mr. Peaslee's characterization. To tell +the truth, he mistrusted the man's ability, and was afraid of him. +If that fellow knew, Mr. Peaslee felt that it would go hard with +him. Generally, Paige was popular. + +Solomon had, of course, been painfully awake to every hint and +intimation in regard to Jim's case. He had seen Jake Hibbard, that +carrion crow of the law, loafing about the corridors, and the sight +had made him shiver. He had next heard that Jim's case would be +quickly called,--probably on the next day,--news producing a complex +emotion, the elements of which he could not distinguish. +Furthermore, a remark or so which he overheard indicated that the +out-of-town men were inclined to take a harsh view of the matter. +And reflecting on all these things, he paddled home through the +depressing wet. + +And the next day it rained. + +More and more perturbed, as the climax approached, Mr. Peaslee took +his place in the jury-room, and sat there with unhearing ears. He +sat and thought and delivered battle with his conscience, which was +growing painfully vigorous and aggressive. But, after all, perhaps +they would not find a true bill, and then Jim would go free, and he +could breathe again. Mr. Peaslee clung to the hope, and hugged it. +It was the one thing which gave him courage. + +"Gentlemen of the grand jury," suddenly he heard Paige saying, "the +next case for you to consider is that of James Edwards, aged +fifteen, of Ellmington, charged with assault, with intent to kill, +upon one Peter Lamoury, also of Ellmington." + +And he proceeded to read the complaint, which, in spite of the +monotonous rapidity with which he rattled it off, scared Mr. Peaslee +badly with its solemn-sounding legal phraseology. + +"Gentlemen," said Paige, laying down the paper, "there was no +eyewitness to the actual assault; and only three people have any +personal knowledge of the event--Mr. Edwards, the defendant's +father, the accused himself, and the complainant. Mr. Lamoury, his +counsel tells me, is in no condition to appear. But I have here," +lifting a paper, "his affidavit, properly executed, giving his +version of the matter. The boy's father, however, is at hand. +Probably the jury would like to question him." + +"It seems to me," said Mr. Sampson, "that Mr. Edwards would be +pretty apt to know the rights of it, if he's willing to talk. I +guess we'd better hear him." + +The state's attorney stepped to the door. + +"This way, please!" he called, and Mr. Edwards entered the room. + +Farnsworth and Peaslee both studied the man's face closely, +although for very different reasons, and both found it sternly +uncompromising. + +"Please take a chair, Mr. Edwards," said Paige, and in a swift +glance rapidly estimated the man. "Here's some one who won't lie," +he thought, impressed. + +"Now," he resumed, "will you kindly tell the members of the grand +jury what you know of the case?" + +Mr. Edwards cleared his throat painfully. Determined as he was to +let his rebellious boy take whatever punishment his mistaken course +might bring, he now began to wish that the punishment would be +light. His confidence that Jim needed only to be pushed a little to +confess was somewhat shaken, and the charge was really serious. He +felt a desire to explain, to palliate, to minimize. + +"Gentlemen," he said, "my boy's always been a good boy. I can't +believe that he meant to hurt Lamoury or any one else. It must have +been some accident--" + +"Facts, please," said Paige, crisply. + +Mr. Peaslee caught his breath indignantly. He had been entirely in +sympathy with Mr. Edwards's soft mode of approaching his story. +Paige seemed to him unfeeling. + +"I will answer any questions," said Mr. Edwards, stiffening. + +"Did you hear any shot fired?" began Paige. + +"Yes." + +"Where were you?" + +"I was asleep in the room above Jim's." + +"Was Jim in his room?" + +"I suppose so." + +"You suppose so. Don't you know?" + +"No, I don't know." + +"But to the best of your knowledge and belief he was there?" + +"Yes." + +"And the shot waked you?" + +"Yes." + +"What did you do on hearing the shot?" + +"I jumped to the window." + +"Tell what you saw, please." + +"I saw a man fall in the orchard, and hurried out to see if he was +hurt. But he was gone when I got there." + +"Then what?" + +"I went to speak to Jim." + +"He was in his room, then, immediately after the shot?" + +"Yes." + +"Ah! And when you spoke to him, did he admit firing the shot?" + +"No." + +"Did he deny it?" + +"Yes." + +"Where was his gun?" + +"In the rack over the mantel." + +"In the rack over the mantel," repeated Paige, slowly, glancing at +the jurors. "Did you examine it?" + +"Yes." + +"What was its condition? Did it show that it had been fired?" + +"No; it was clean." + +"It was clean," repeated Paige. "I understand that it was a +double-barreled, muzzle-loading shotgun. Were there any rags about?" + +"Yes." + +"Where were they?" + +"One was in the ashes of the fireplace." + +"Look as if some one had tried to hide it?" + +"Yes"--reluctantly. + +"If it was that sort of gun, there must have been a shot-pouch and +powder-flask. Where were they?" + +"In the drawer where Jim keeps them." + +"Everything looked, then, as if no shot had been fired?" + +"Yes." + +"Was there any one besides yourself and your son in the house?" + +"No." + +"Your housekeeper?" + +"She had stepped out." + +"To the best of your knowledge, then, there was no one about to fire +the shot except your son?" + +"No." + +"That will do," said Paige, with an accent of finality. "That is," +he added, with the air of one who observes a courteous form, "unless +some of the grand jurors wish to ask a question." + +There were various things which were new to Mr. Peaslee in this +testimony. He had supposed that Jim had been picked as the guilty +person by a process of mere exclusion; he had had no idea that the +case against him was so strong. How had the boy got to the room so +soon after he himself had left, and why had he gone there? And why, +why had he cleaned the shotgun? The grand jury must believe in his +guilt. And when the case came to trial, what could Jim say to clear +himself? It was going hard, hard with the boy. + +Mr. Peaslee's mouth grew dry, his palms moist; he moved uneasily in +his chair. Once or twice he felt sure that the next instant he would +find himself on his feet, but the minutes passed and he still was +seated. + +And Farnsworth, anxious, for the sake of his betrothed, Miss Ware, +to help Jim, was nonplussed. There were two possible explanations +of Jim's cleaning the gun, if he did clean it: the first, that Jim +was protecting himself; the second, that he was shielding some one +else. + +But the second theory seemed quite untenable. Farnsworth had made +some cautious but well-directed inquiries about Mr. Edwards, and had +satisfied himself that the rumors about his smuggling were nothing +but malicious gossip. There was not a man of greater honesty in the +state. The boy must have done the shooting. Miss Ware would have to +give it up. Still, he would hazard a question. + +"Mr. Edwards," he said, "Lamoury worked for you once, didn't he?" + +"Yes." + +"You quarreled, didn't you?" + +"I discharged him for intemperance." + +"There was no bad blood?" + +"Lamoury was angry, I believe." + +Farnsworth stopped; there was nothing to be gained by this course of +questioning in the way of clearing Jim. Of course later, the point +that Lamoury had a grudge against the family might have importance, +although he could not see just how. Some one else surely heard that +gunshot. It was incredible that the neighborhood should be so +deserted. If only there were another witness! + +The other jurors had no questions. They were, to tell the truth, a +little impatient. It was near the dinner-hour, and they were hungry. +The case seemed perfectly plain to them. It was not likely, they +argued, that the boy's father could be mistaken. + +"You may go," said Paige to Mr. Edwards. + +"I don't see," he began, when the witness had left the room, "any +need for our going further into this case. Whatever we may think of +the animus of the complainant,--I take it that was what you wished +to bring out, Mr. Farnsworth,--there seems to be no question but +that the boy fired the shot. The presumption seems strong also that +he intended to hit. Were there any accident or any good excuse, the +boy could, of course, have no motive not to tell it. I suggest that +a true bill be found at once, and that we proceed to more important +matters. I want to remind you that we have a great deal of work +before us." + +"Well, gentlemen," said Sampson, "I guess we're pretty much of a +mind about this. If no one has any objections, I guess we'll call it +a vote." He looked round. + +"As we're all agreed--" he began. + +"Just a moment, Sampson!" suddenly exclaimed Farnsworth. It had just +then flashed over him that Mr. Peaslee, the kind Mr. Peaslee, who +gave Jim knives and harmonicas, was next-door neighbor to the +Edwardses. If he had been at home when the shot was fired, he must +have heard it, and he might have seen some significant thing which +questioning might bring out. Of course, if Peaslee had seen +anything, he would have spoken, but he might have overlooked the +importance of some fact or other. + +"Just a moment, Sampson!" he said, and put up his hand. Then he +swung sharply in his chair and put the question:-- + +"Peaslee, where were you when that shot was fired?" + + + + +[Illustration: Cat standing alert facing forward.] + +VI + + +"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 a +word 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 some notes 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 sake and 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 up you'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 on a 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 things +slip 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 a farcical 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 which rested 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'us business, _I_ call it. +Guess the grand jury's got suthin' to say to it, hain't they? Cat? +Cat's foot, _I_ say. 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 +the sense 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 had Farnsworth 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 Sampson +nodded 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 bank had 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 and +watching 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 +against the 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 need +to 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 the court. 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. + +"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 was not 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!" + +[Illustration: HE TURNED TO FACE THE STORM] + + + + +[Illustration: Cat drinking from saucer.] + +VII + + +When the 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 away at 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. No other 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 the half-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 the turmoil 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, in +spite 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 Jim first, +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 that _I_ shot +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 for a 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 of the 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 his face. 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 Ah ain'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, mebbe four 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 aid of 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? Respect_a_ble 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 brushed the +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!" +and Pete, 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?" The delighted 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 never let 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 slight start, 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 greatly injured, 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 for sixty 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?" asked Mrs. 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 to express 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. + + ++------------------------------------------+ +|Transcriber's Note | +| | +|The cover illustration referred to in the | +|Author's Note at the beginning of this | +|book was not available for this electronic| +|version of the text. | ++------------------------------------------+ + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Calico Cat, by Charles Miner Thompson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CALICO CAT *** + +***** This file should be named 20010.txt or 20010.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/0/1/20010/ + +Produced by Jacqueline Jeremy, David Edwards and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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