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diff --git a/30567-8.txt b/30567-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..92aa3df --- /dev/null +++ b/30567-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13885 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Bondboy, by George W. (George Washington) +Ogden + + +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 Bondboy + + +Author: George W. (George Washington) Ogden + + + +Release Date: November 30, 2009 [eBook #30567] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BONDBOY*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +THE BONDBOY + + * * * * * + +_By G. W. Ogden_ + + Trail's End + Claim Number One + The Land of Last Chance + The Rustler of Wind River + The Duke of Chimney Butte + The Flockmaster of Poison Creek + + * * * * * + +THE BONDBOY + +by + +GEORGE W. OGDEN + + + + + + + +Chicago +A. C. McClurg & Co. +1922 + +Copyright +A. C. McClurg & Co. +1922 + +Published October, 1922 + +Copyrighted in Great Britain + +Printed in the United States of America + + + + +CONTENTS + I. Delivered Into Bondage 1 + II. A Dry-Salt Man 21 + III. The Spark in the Clod 47 + IV. A Stranger at the Gate 66 + V. The Secret of the Clover 84 + VI. Blood 99 + VII. Deliverance 114 + VIII. Will He Tell? 126 + IX. The Sealed Envelope 152 + X. Let Him Hang 166 + XI. Peter's Son 171 + XII. The Sunbeam on the Wall 188 + XIII. Until the Day Break 210 + XIV. Deserted 228 + XV. The State vs. Newbolt 241 + XVI. "She Cometh Not" He Said 249 + XVII. The Blow of a Friend 259 + XVIII. A Name and a Message 276 + XIX. The Shadow of a Dream 304 + XX. "The Penalty Is Death!" 311 + XXI. Ollie Speaks 325 + XXII. A Summons of the Night 341 + XXIII. Lest I Forget 359 + + + + +The Bondboy + + + + +CHAPTER I + +DELIVERED INTO BONDAGE + + +Sarah Newbolt enjoyed in her saturnine, brooding way the warmth of April +sunshine and the stirring greenery of awakening life now beginning to +soften the brown austerity of the dead winter earth. Beside her kitchen +wall the pink cones of rhubarb were showing, and the fat buds of the +lilacs, which clustered coppicelike in her dooryard, were ready to +unlock and flare forth leaves. On the porch with its southern exposure +she sat in her low, splint-bottomed rocker, leaning forward, her elbows +on her knees. + +The sun tickled her shoulders through her linsey dress, and pictured +her, grotesquely foreshortened, upon the nail-drawn, warped, and beaten +floor. Her hands, nursing her cheeks, chin pivoted in their palms, were +large and toil-distorted, great-jointed like a man's, and all the +feminine softness with which nature had endowed her seemed to have been +overcome by the masculine cast of frame and face which the hardships of +her life had developed. + +She did not seem, crouched there like an old cat warming herself in the +first keen fires of spring, conscious of anything about her; of the low +house, with its battered eaves, the sprawling rail-fence in front of it, +out of which the gate was gone, like a tooth; of the wild bramble of +roses, or the generations of honeysuckle which had grown, layer upon +layer--the under stratum all dead and brown--over the decaying arbor +which led up to the cracked front door. She did not seem conscious that +time and poverty had wasted the beauties of that place; that shingles +were gone from the outreaching eaves, torn away by March winds; that +stones had fallen from the chimney, squatting broad-shouldered at the +weathered gable; that panes were missing from the windows, their places +supplied by boards and tacked-on cloth, or that pillows crowded into +them, making it seem a house that stopped its ears against the +unfriendly things which passengers upon the highway might speak of it. + +Time and poverty were pressing upon Sarah Newbolt also, relaxing there +that bright hour in the sun, straying away from her troubles and her +vexations like an autumn butterfly among the golden leaves, unmindful of +the frost which soon must cut short its day. For, poor as she was in all +that governments put imposts upon, and men list in tax returns and carry +to steel vaults to hoard away, Sarah Newbolt had her dreams. She had no +golden past; there was no golden future ready before her feet. There was +no review for her in those visions of happy days and tender memories, +over which a woman half closes her eyes and smiles, or over the incense +of which a man's heart softens. Behind her stretched a wake of +turbulence and strife; ahead of her lay the banked clouds of an +unsettled and insecure future. + +But she had her dreams, in which even the poorest of us may indulge when +our taskmaster in the great brickworks of this hot and heavy world is +not hard by and pressing us forward with his lash. She had her dreams of +what never was and never could be; of old longings, old heart-hungers, +old hopes, and loves which never had come near for one moment's caress +of her toil-hardened hand. Dreams which roved the world and soothed the +ache in her heart by their very extravagance, which even her frugal +conscience could not chide; dreams which drew hot tears upon her cheeks, +to trickle down among her knotted fingers and tincture the bitterness of +things unrealized. + +The crunch of wheels in the road now startled her from her profitless +excursions among the mist of visions and dreams. She lifted her head +like a cow startled from her peaceful grazing, for the vehicle had +stopped at the gap in the fence where the gate should have stood warder +between its leaning posts. + +"Well, he's come," said she with the resignation of one who finds the +long expected and dreaded at hand. + +A man got out of the buggy and hitched his horse to one of the old +gate-posts, first trying it to satisfy himself that it was trustworthy, +for stability in even a post on those premises, where everything was +going to decay, seemed unreasonable to expect. He turned up the path, +bordered by blue flags, thrusting their swordpoints through the ground, +and strode toward the house, with that uncouth giving at the knees which +marks a man who long has followed the plow across furrowed fields. + +The visitor was tall and bony, brown, dry-faced, and frowning of aspect. +There was severity in every line of his long, loose body; in the hard +wrinkles of his forehead, in his ill-nurtured gray beard, which was so +harsh that it rasped like wire upon his coat as he turned his head in +quick appraisement of his surroundings. His feet were bunion-distorted +and lumpy in his great coarse shoes; coarse black hair grew down upon +his broad, thick-jointed hands; a thicket of eyebrows presented, like a +_chevaux-de-frise_, bristling when he drew them down in his peering +squint. + +Sarah Newbolt rose to meet him, tall in the vigor of her pioneer stock. +In her face there was a malarial smokiness of color, although it still +held a trace of a past brightness, and her meagerness of feature gave +her mouth a set of determination which stood like a false index at the +beginning of a book or a misleading sign upon a door. Her eyes were +black, her brows small and delicate. Back from her narrow forehead she +had drawn her plentiful dark hair in rigid unloveliness; over it she +wore a knitted shawl. + +"Well, Mr. Chase, you've come to put us out, I reckon?" said she, a +little tremor in her chin, although her voice was steady and her eyes +met his with an appeal which lay too near the soul for words. + +Isom Chase drew up to the steps and placed one knotted foot upon them, +standing thus in silence a little while, as if thinking it over. The +dust of the highroad was on his broad black hat, and gray upon his +grizzly beard. In the attitude of his lean frame, in the posture of his +foot upon the step, he seemed to be asserting a mastery over the place +which he had invaded to the sad dispersion of Sarah Newbolt's dreams. + +"I hate to do it," he declared, speaking hurriedly, as if he held words +but frail vehicles in a world where deeds counted with so much greater +weight, "but I've been easy on you, ma'am; no man can say that I haven't +been easy." + +"I know your money's long past due," she sighed, "but if you was to give +Joe another chance, Mr. Chase, we could pay you off in time." + +"Oh, another chance, another chance!" said he impatiently. "What could +you do with all the chances in the world, you and him--what did your +husband ever do with his chances? He had as many of 'em as I ever did, +and what did he ever do but scheme away his time on fool things that +didn't pan out when he ought 'a' been in the field! No, you and Joe +couldn't pay back that loan, ma'am, not if I was to give you forty years +to do it in." + +"Well, maybe not," said she, drawing a sigh from the well of her sad old +heart. + +"The interest ain't been paid since Peter died, and that's more than two +years now," said Chase. "I can't sleep on my rights that way, ma'am; +I've got to foreclose to save myself." + +"Yes, you've been easy, even if we did give you up our last cow on that +there inter-est," she allowed. "You've been as kind and easy over it, I +reckon, Mr. Chase, as a body could be. Well, I reckon me and Joe we'll +have to leave the old place now." + +"Lord knows, I don't see what there is to stay for!" said Chase feelingly, +sweeping his eyes around the wired-up, gone-to-the-devil-looking place. + +"When a body's bore children in a place," she said earnestly, "and +nussed 'em, and seen 'em fade away and die; and when a body's lived in a +house for upward of forty years, and thought things in it, and +everything----" + +"Bosh!" said Isom Chase, kicking the rotting step. + +"I know it's all shacklety now," said she apologetically, "but it's home +to me and Joe!" + +Her voice trembled over the words, and she wiped her eyes with the +corner of her head-shawl; but her face remained as immobile as features +cast in metal. When one has wept out of the heart for years, as Sarah +Newbolt had wept, the face is no longer a barometer over the tempests of +the soul. + +Isom Chase was silent. He stood as if reflecting his coming words, +trying the loose boards of the siding with his blunt thumb. + +"Peter and I, we came here from Kentucky," said she, looking at him with +a sidelong appeal, as if for permission to speak the profitless +sentiments of her heart, "and people was scarce in this part of Missouri +then. I rode all the way a-horseback, and I came here, to this very +house, a bride." + +"I didn't take a mortgage on sentiment--I took it on the land," said +Chase, out of humor with this reminiscent history. + +"You can't understand how I feel, Mr. Chase," said she, dropping her +arms at her sides hopelessly. "Peter--he planted them laylocks and them +roses." + +"Better 'a' planted corn--and tended to it!" grunted Chase. "Well, you +can grub 'em all up and take 'em away with you, if you want 'em. They +don't pay interest--I suppose you've found that out." + +"Not on money," said she, reaching out her hand toward a giant lilac +with a caressing, tender air. + +"Sit down," said he in voice of command, planting himself upon the +porch, his back against a post, "and let's you and I have a little talk. +Where do you expect to go when you leave here; what plans have you got +for the future?" + +"Lord, there's not a clap-board in this world that I can poke my head +under and lay claim to its shelter!" said she, sitting again in her low +rocker, shaking her head sadly. + +"Your boy Joe, he'll not be able to command man's wages for three or +four years yet," said Chase, studying her averted face as if to take +possession of even her thoughts. "He'll not be able to do much toward +supportin' you, even if he could light on to a steady, all-the-year job, +which he can't, the way times is." + +"No, I don't reckon he could," said she. + +"And if I was to let you two stay on here I wouldn't be any nearer bein' +paid back that four hundred dollar loan in two or three years than I am +now. It's nearly five hundred now, with the interest pilin' up, and +it'll be a thousand before you know it. It'd take that boy a lifetime to +pay it off." + +"Peter failed," she nodded; "it was a burden on him that hackled him to +the grave. Yes, I reckon you're right. But there's no tellin' how Joe +he'll turn out, Mr. Chase. He may turn out to be a better manager than +his pap was." + +"How old is he?" asked Chase. + +"Most nineteen," said she, some kind of a faraway hope, indefinable and +hazy, lifting the cloud of depression which had fallen over her, "and +he's uncommon big and stout for his age. Maybe if you'd give Joe work he +could pay it off, interest and all, by the time he's twenty-one." + +"Not much need for him," said Chase, shaking his head, "but I +might--well, I might figure around so I could take him over, on certain +conditions, you understand? It all depends on your plans. If you haven't +anywhere to go when you leave this house, you're bound to land on the +county." + +"Don't tell me that, Mr. Chase--don't tell me that!" she begged, +pressing her battered hands to her eyes, rocking and moaning in her +chair. + +"What's the use of puttin' the truth back of you when you're bound to +come face up to it in the end?" he asked. "I was talkin' to Judge +Little, of the county court, about you this morning. I told him I'd have +to foreclose and take possession of this forty to save myself. + +"'It'll throw her and that boy on the county,' he says. 'Yes, I reckon +it will,' I told him, 'but no man can say I've been hard on 'em.'" + +"Oh, you wouldn't throw me on the county at the end of my days, Mr. +Chase!" she appealed. "Joe he'll take care of me, if you'll only give +him a chance--if you'll only give him a chance, Mr. Chase!" + +"I meant to take that up with you," said he, "on the conditions I spoke +of a minute ago." + +He turned to her, as if for her consent to give expression to his +mysterious terms. She nodded, and he went on: + +"In the winter time, ma'am, to tell you the plain truth, Joe wouldn't be +worth wages to me, and in the summer not very much. A boy that size and +age eats his head off, you might say. + +"But I'll make you this offer, out of consideration of my friendship for +Peter, and your attachment for the old place, and all of that stuff: +I'll take Joe over, under writing, till he's twenty-one, at ten dollars +a month and all found, winter and summer through, and allow you to stay +right on here in the house, with a couple of acres for your chickens and +garden patch and your posies and all the things you set store on and +prize. I'll do this for you, Missis Newbolt, but I wouldn't do it for +any other human being alive." + +She turned slowly to him, an expression of mingled amazement and fear on +her face. + +"You mean that you want me to bind Joe out to you till he's his own +man?" said she. + +"Well, some call it by that name," nodded Chase, "but it's nothing more +than any apprenticeship to any trade, except--oh, well, there ain't no +difference, except that there's few trades that equal the one the boy'll +learn under me, ma'am." + +"You're askin' me to bind my little son--my only child left to me of all +that I bore--you want me to bind him out to you like a nigger slave!" + +Her voice fell away to a whisper, unable to bear the horror that grew +into her words. + +"Better boys than him have been bound out in this neighborhood!" said +Chase sharply. "If you don't want to do it, _don't_ do it. That's all +I've got to say. If you'd rather go to the poorhouse than see your son +in steady and honorable employment, in a good home, and learning a +business under a man that's made some success of it, that's your +lookout, not mine. But that's where you'll land the minute you set your +foot out in that road. Then the county court'll take your boy and bind +him out to somebody, and you'll have no word to say in the matter, at +all. But you can suit yourself." + +"It--kind of--shook me," she muttered, the mother-love, the honor and +justice in her quailing heart shrinking back before the threat of that +terrible disgrace--the poorhouse. + +The shadow of the poorhouse had stood in her way for years. It had been +the fear of Peter when he was there, and his last word was one of +thankfulness to the Almighty that he had been permitted to die in a +freeman's bed, under his own humble roof. That consolation was to be +denied her; the shadow of the poorhouse had advanced until it stood now +at her door. One step and it would envelop her; the taint of its blight +would wither her heart. + +Sarah Newbolt had inherited that dread of publicly confessed poverty and +dependence. It had come down to her through a long line of pioneer +forebears who feared neither hardship, strife nor death, so that it +might come to them without a master and under the free sky. Only the +disgraced, the disowned, the failures, and the broken-minded made an end +in the poorhouse in those vigorous days. It was a disgrace from which a +family never could hope to rise again. There, on the old farm with Peter +she had been poor, as poor as the poorest, but they had been free to +come and go. + +"I know I've got the name of being a hard man and a money-grabber and a +driver," said Chase with crabbed bitterness, "but who is it that gives +that reputation to me? People that can't beat me and take advantage of +me and work money out of me by their rascally schemes! I'm not a hard +man by nature--my actions with you prove that, don't they?" + +"You've been as kind as a body could expect," she answered. "It's only +right that you should have your money back, and it ain't been your fault +that we couldn't raise it. But we've done the best we could." + +"And that best only led you up to the poorhouse door," said he. "I'm +offering you a way to escape it, and spend the rest of your days in the +place you're attached to, but I don't seem to get any thanks for it." + +"I am thankful to you for your offer--from the bottom of my heart I'm +thankful, Mr. Chase," she hastened to declare. + +"Well, neither of us knows how Joe's going to turn out," said he. "Under +my training he might develop into a good, sober farmer, one that knows +his business and can make it pay. If he does, I promise you I'll give +him a chance on this place to redeem it. I'll put him on it to farm on +shares when he fills out his time under me, my share of the crops to +apply to the debt. Would that be fair?" + +"Nobody in this world couldn't say it wasn't generous and fair of you, +and noble and kind, Mr. Chase," she declared, her face showing a little +color, the courage coming back into her eyes. + +"Then you'd better take up my offer without any more foolishness," he +advised. + +"I'll have to talk it over with Joe," said she. + +"He's got nothing to do with it, I tell you," protested Chase, brushing +that phase of it aside with a sweep of his hairy hand. "You, and you +alone, are responsible for him till he's twenty-one, and it's your duty +to keep him off the county and away from the disgrace of pauperism, and +yourself as well." + +"I ought to see Joe about it first, Mr. Chase, I ought to talk it over +with him. Let me think a minute." + +She settled down to her pensive attitude, elbows on knees, chin in +hands, and looked over the homely scene of riotous shrubbery, racked +buildings, leaning well-curb, rotting fences. In one swift, painful +moment she pictured what that spot would be after Isom Chase had taken +possession. + +He would uproot the lilacs; he would level the house and the chimney, +stone by stone; he would fill up the well and pull down the old barn +that Peter built, and drive his plow over the hearthstone where she had +suckled her babies in the years of her youth and hope. He would +obliterate the landmarks of her bridal days, and sow his grain in the +spot where Peter, fresh in the strong heat of youth, had anchored their +ambitions. + +It was not so much for what it had been that her heart was tender to it, +for the years had been heavy there and toilsome, disappointing and full +of pain; not so much for what it had been, indeed, as what she and young +Peter, with the thick black hair upon his brow, had planned to make it. +It was for the romance unlived, the hope unrealized, that it was dear. +And then again it was poor and pitiful, wind-shaken and old, but it was +home. The thought of the desolation that waited it in the dread future +struck her breast like the pangs of bereavement. Tears coursed down her +face; sobs rose in her aching throat. + +Joe, she thought, would do that much for her and the old home place; it +would be but a little more than two years of sacrifice for him, at the +most, with the bright hope of independence and redemption at the end. +Being bound out would not be so disgraceful as going to the poorhouse. +Joe would do it for her, she was sure of that. But it would be better to +wait until evening and ask him. + +"Joe, he'll be along home from his work about dusk," said she, "and we +could let you know tomorrow." + +"Tomorrow," said Isom Chase, rising stiffly, "I'll have to send the +sheriff here with the papers. Tomorrow, ma'am, will be too late." + +That dreadful picture swept across her inner vision once more--the +chimney down, the house gone. She saw corn growing over the spot where +she sat that moment; she remembered that Isom Chase had plowed up a +burying-ground once and seeded it to timothy. + +"What will I have to do to bind Joe over to you?" she asked, facing him +in sudden resolution. + +"We'll git in the buggy," said he, with new friendliness, seeing that he +had won, "and drive over to Judge Little's. He can make out the papers +in a few minutes, and I'll pay you a month's wages in advance. That will +fix you up for groceries and garden seeds and everything, and you'll be +as snug and happy as any woman in the county." + +In less than two hours the transaction was completed, and Sarah Newbolt +was back again in the home upon which she had secured her slipping +tenure at the sacrifice of her son's liberty. As she began "stirring the +pots for supper," as she called it, she also had time to stir the deep +waters of reflection. + +She had secured herself from the threat of the county farm, and Joe had +been the price; Joe, her last-born, the sole remaining one of the six +who had come to her and gone on again into the mists. + +She began to fear in her heart when she stood off and viewed the result +of her desperate panic, the pangs of which Isom Chase had adroitly +magnified. If Joe could work for Isom Chase and thus keep her from the +poorhouse, could he not have worked for another, free to come and go as +he liked, and with the same security for her? + +Chase said that he had not taken a mortgage on sentiment, but he had +made capital out of it in the end, trading upon her affection for the +old home and its years-long associations. As the gloomy evening deepened +and she stood in the door watching for her son's return, she saw through +the scheme of Isom Chase. She never would have been thrown on the county +with Joe to depend on; the question of his ability to support both of +them admitted of no debate. + +Joe's industry spoke for that, and that was Isom Chase's reason for +wanting him. Isom wanted him because he was strong and trustworthy, +honest and faithful. And she had bargained him in selfishness and sold +him in cowardice, without a word from him, as she might have sold a cow +to pay a pressing debt. + +The bargain was binding. Judge Little had pressed that understanding of +it upon her. It was as irrevocable as a deed signed and sealed. Joe +could not break it; she could not set it aside. Isom Chase was empowered +with all the authority of absolute master. + +"If he does anything that deserves thrashing for, I've got a right to +thrash him, do you understand that?" Isom had said as he stood there in +the presence of Judge Little, buttoning his coat over the document which +transferred Joe's services to him. + +Her heart had contracted at the words, for the cruelty of Isom Chase was +notorious. A bound boy had died in his service not many years before, +kicked by a mule, it was said. There had been mutterings at that time, +and talk of an investigation, which never came to a head because the +bound lad was nobody, taken out of the county home. But the fear in the +widow's heart that moment was not for her son; it was for Isom Chase. + +"Lord 'a' mercy, Mr. Chase, you mustn't never strike Joe!" she warned. +"You don't know what kind of a boy he is, Mr. Chase. I'm afraid he might +up and hurt you maybe, if you ever done that." + +"I'll handle him in my own way," with portentous significance; "but I +want you to understand my rights fully at the start." + +"Yes, sir," she answered meekly. + +Joe was coming now, pitchfork over his shoulder, from the field where he +had been burning corn-stalks, making ready for the plow. She hastened to +set out a basin of water on the bench beside the kitchen door, and +turned then into the room to light the lamp and place it on the waiting +table. + +Joe appeared at the door, drying his hands on the dangling towel. He was +a tall, gaunt-faced boy, big-boned, raw-jointed, the framework for +prodigious strength. His shoulders all but filled the narrow doorway, +his crown came within an inch of its lintel. His face was glowing from +the scrubbing which he had given it with home-made lye soap, his +drenched hair fell in heavy locks down his deep forehead. + +"Well, Mother, what's happened?" he asked, noting her uneasiness as she +sat waiting him at the table, the steaming coffee-pot at her hand. + +"Sit down and start your supper, son, and we'll talk as we go along," +said she. + +Joe gave his hair a "lick and a promise" with the comb, and took his +place at the table. Mrs. Newbolt bent her head and pronounced the +thanksgiving which that humble board never lacked, and she drew it out +to an amazing and uncomfortable length that evening, as Joe's impatient +stomach could bear clamorous witness. + +Sarah Newbolt had a wide fame as a religious woman, and a woman who +could get more hell-fire into her belief and more melancholy pleasure +out of it than any hard-shell preacher in the land. It was a doleful +religion, with little promise or hope in it, and a great deal of blood +and suffering between the world and its doubtful reward; but Sarah +Newbolt lived according to its stern inflexibility, and sang its +sorrowful hymns by day, as she moved about the house, in a voice that +carried a mile. But for all the grimness in her creed, there was not a +being alive with a softer heart. She would have divided her last square +of corn-bread with the wayfarer at her door, without question of his +worth or unworthiness, his dissension, or his faith. + +"Mr. Chase was here this afternoon, Joe," said she as the lad began his +supper. + +"Well, I suppose he's going to put us out?" + +Joe paused in the mixing of gravy and corn-bread--designed to be +conveyed to his mouth on the blade of his knife--and lifted inquiring +eyes to his mother's troubled face. + +"No, son; we fixed it up," said she. + +"You fixed it up?" he repeated, his eyes beaming with pleasure. "Is he +going to give us another chance?" + +"You go on and eat your supper, Joe; we'll talk it over when you're +through. Lands, you must be tired and hungry after workin' so hard all +afternoon!" + +He was too hungry, perhaps, to be greatly troubled by her air of +uneasiness and distraction. He bent over his plate, not noting that she +sipped her coffee with a spoon, touching no food. At last he pushed back +with a sigh of repletion, and smiled across at his mother. + +"So you fixed it up with him?" + +"Yes, I went into a dishonorable deal with Isom Chase," said she, "and I +don't know what you'll say when you hear what's to be told to you, +Joe." + +"What do you mean by 'dishonorable deal'?" he asked, his face growing +white. + +"I don't know what you'll say, Joe, I don't know what you'll say!" +moaned she, shaking her head sorrowfully. + +"Well, Mother, I can't make out what you mean," said he, baffled and +mystified by her strange behavior. + +"Wait--I'll show you." + +She rose from the table and reached down a folded paper from among the +soda packages and tins on the shelf. Saying no more, she handed it to +him. Joe took it, wonder in his face, spread his elbows, and unfolded +the document with its notarial seal. + +Joe was ready at printed matter. He read fast and understandingly, and +his face grew paler as his eyes ran on from line to line. When he came +to the end, where his mother's wavering signature stood above that of +Isom Chase, his head dropped a little lower, his hands lay listlessly, +as if paralyzed, on the paper under his eyes. A sudden dejection seemed +to settle over him, blighting his youth and buoyancy. + +Mrs. Newbolt was making out to be busy over the stove. She lifted the +lid of the kettle, and put it down with a clatter; she opened the stove +and rammed the fire with needless severity with the poker, and it +snapped back at her, shooting sparks against her hand. + +"Mother, you've bound me out!" said he, his voice unsteady in its +accusing note. + +She looked at him, her hands starting out in a little movement of +appeal. He turned from the table and sat very straight and stern in his +chair, his gaunt face hollowed in shadows, his wild hair falling across +his brow. + +"Oh, I sold you! I sold you!" she wailed. + +She sat again in her place at the table, spiritless and afraid, her +hands limp in her lap. + +"You've bound me out!" Joe repeated harshly, his voice rasping in his +throat. + +"I never meant to do it, Joe," she pleaded in weak defense; "but Isom, +he said nothing else would save us from the county farm. I wanted to +wait and ask you, Joe, and I told him I wanted to ask you, but he said +it would be too late!" + +"Yes. What else did he say?" asked Joe, his hands clenched, his eyes +peering straight ahead at the wall. + +She related the circumstances of Chase's visit, his threat of eviction, +his declaration that she would become a county charge the moment that +she set foot in the road. + +"The old liar!" said Joe. + +There seemed to be nothing more for her to say. She could make no +defense of an act which stood before her in all its ugly selfishness. +Joe sat still, staring at the wall beyond the stove; she crouched +forward in her chair, as if to shrink out of his sight. + +Between them the little glass lamp stood, a droning, slow-winged brown +beetle blundering against its chimney. Outside, the distant chant of +newly wakened frogs sounded; through the open door the warm air of the +April night came straying, bearing the incense of the fields and +woodlands, where fires smoldered like sleepers sending forth their +dreams. + +His silence was to her the heaviest rebuke that he could have +administered. Her remorse gathered under it, her contrition broke its +bounds. + +"Oh, I sold you, my own flesh and blood!" she cried, springing to her +feet, lifting her long arms above her head. + +"You knew what he was, Mother; you knew what it meant to be bound out to +him for two long years and more. It wasn't as if you didn't know." + +"I knew, I knew! But I done it, son, I done it! And I done it to save my +own mis'able self. I ain't got no excuse, Joe, I ain't got no excuse at +all." + +"Well, Mother, you'll be safe here, anyhow, and I can stand it," said +Joe, brightening a little, the tense severity of his face softening. +"Never mind; I can stand it, I guess." + +"I'll never let you go to him--I didn't mean to do it--it wasn't fair +the way he drove me into it!" said she. + +She laid her hand, almost timidly, on her son's shoulder, and looked +into his face. "I know you could take care of me and keep off of the +county, even if Isom did put us out like he said he'd do, but I went and +done it, anyhow. Isom led me into it, Joe; he wasn't fair." + +"Yes, and you bound me out for about half what I'm worth to any man and +could demand for my services anywhere, Mother," said Joe, the bitterness +which he had fought down but a moment past surging up in him again. + +"Lord forgive me!" she supplicated piteously. She turned suddenly to the +table and snatched the paper. "It wasn't fair--he fooled me into it!" +she repeated. "I'll tear it up, I'll burn it, and we'll leave this place +and let him have it, and he can go on and do whatever he wants to with +it--tear it down, burn it, knock it to pieces--for anything I care +now!" + +Joe restrained her as she went toward the stove, the document in her +hand. + +"Wait, Mother; it's a bargain. We're bound in honor to it, we can't back +down now." + +"I'll never let you do it!" she declared, her voice rising beyond her +control. "I'll walk the roads and beg my bread first! I'll hoe in the +fields, I'll wash folks' clothes for 'em like a nigger slave, I'll lay +down my life, Joe, before I let you go into that murderin' man's +hands!" + +He took the paper from her hands gently. + +"I've been thinking it over, Mother," said he, "and it might be +worse--it might be a good deal worse. It gives me steady work, for one +thing, and you can save most of my wages, counting on the eggs you'll +sell, and the few turkeys and things. After a while you can get a cow +and make butter, and we'll be better off, all around. We couldn't get +out of it, anyway, Mother. He's paid you money, and you've signed your +name to the contract along with Isom. If we were to pull out and leave +here, Isom could send the sheriff after me and bring me back, I guess. +Even if he couldn't do that, he could sue you, Mother, and make no end +of trouble. But we wouldn't leave if we could. It wouldn't be quite +honorable, or like Newbolts at all, to break our contract that way." + +"But he'll drive you to the grave, Joe!" + +A slow smile spread over his face. "I don't think Isom would find me a +good driving horse," said he. + +"He said if you done well," she told him, brightening as she clutched at +that small stay of justification, "he'd let you work this place on +shares till you paid off the loan. That was one reason----" + +"Of course," said Joe, a cheerfulness in his voice which his pale cheeks +did not sustain, "that was one thing I had in mind when I spoke. It'll +all come out right. You've done the wisest thing there was to be done, +Mother, and I'll fulfill your agreement to the last day." + +"You're a brave boy, Joe; you're a credit to the memory of your pap," +said she. + +"I'll go over to Isom's early in the morning," said Joe, quite +sprightly, as if the arrangement had indeed solved all their troubles. +He stretched his arms with a prodigious yawn. "You don't need to bother +about getting up and fixing breakfast for me, for I'll get some over +there." + +"I hope he'll give you enough," said she. + +"Don't you worry over me," he counseled kindly, "for I'll be all right +at Isom's. Sunday I'll come home and see you. Now, you take a good sleep +in the morning and don't bother." + +"I'll be up before you leave," said she, her eyes overflowing with +tears. "Do you reckon I could lie and sleep and slumber when my last and +only livin' one's goin' away to become a servant in the house of +bondage? And I sold you to it, Joe, my own flesh and blood!" + +There had been little tenderness between them all their days, for in +such lives of striving, poverty too often starves affection until it +quits the board. But there was a certain nobility of loyalty which +outlived the narrowness of their lot, and certain traditions of chivalry +in the Newbolt heritage which now guided Joe's hand to his mother's head +as she sat weeping and moaning with her arms flung upon the disordered +table. + +"It'll be all right, Mother," he cheered her, "and the time will soon +pass away. What are two years to me? Not much more than a month or two +to an old man like Isom. I tell you, this plan's the finest thing in the +world for you and me, Mother--don't you grieve over it that way." + +She was feeling the comfort of his cheerfulness when he left her to go +to bed, although she was sore in conscience and spirit, sore in mind and +heart. + +"The Lord never gave any woman a son like him," said she as the sound of +Joe's steps fell quiet overhead, "and I've sold him into slavery and +bondage, just to save my own unworthy, coward'y, sneakin' self!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A DRY-SALT MAN + + +Joe was afoot early. His mother came to the place in the fence where the +gate once stood to give him a last word of comfort, and to bewail again +her selfishness in sending him away to serve as bondboy under the hard +hand of Isom Chase. Joe cheered her with hopeful pictures of the future, +when the old home should be redeemed and the long-dwelling shadow of +their debt to Isom cleared away and paid. From the rise in the road +which gave him the last sight of the house Joe looked back and saw her +with her head bowed to the topmost rail of the fence, a figure of +dejection and woe in the security which she had purchased for herself at +such a heavy price. + +Although Joe moved briskly along his way, his feet as light as if they +carried him to some destination of certain felicity, there was a cloud +upon his heart. This arrangement which his mother had made in an hour of +panic had disordered his plans and troubled the bright waters of his +dreams. Plans and dreams were all his riches. They were the sole +patrimony of value handed down from Peter Newbolt, the Kentucky +gentleman, who had married below his state and carried his young +mountain wife away to the Missouri woods to escape the censure of family +and criticism of friends. + +That was the only legacy, indeed, that Joe was conscious of, but +everybody else was aware that old Peter had left him something even more +dangerous than dreams. That was nothing less than a bridling, +high-minded, hot-blooded pride--a thing laughable, the neighbors said, +in one so bitterly and hopelessly poor. + +"The pore folks," the neighbors called the Newbolts in speaking of them +one to another, for in that community of fairly prosperous people there +was none so poor as they. The neighbors had magnified their misfortune +into a reproach, and the "pore folks" was a term in which they found +much to compensate their small souls for the slights which old Peter, in +his conscious superiority, unwittingly put upon them. + +To the end of his days Peter never had been wise enough to forget that +nature had endowed him, in many ways, above the level of the world to +which Fate had chained his feet, and his neighbors never had been kind +enough to forget that he was poor. + +Even after Peter was dead Joe suffered for the family pride. He was +still spoken of, far and near in that community, as the "pore folks's +boy." Those who could not rise to his lofty level despised him because +he respected the gerund, and also said _were_ where they said _was_, and +_there are_, where usage made it _they is_. It was old Peter's +big-headedness and pride, they said. What business had the pore folks's +boy with the speech of a school-teacher or minister in his mouth? His +"coming" and his "going," indeed! Huh, it made 'em sick. + +Joe had lived a lonely, isolated life on account of the family poverty +and pride. He was as sensitive as a poet to the boorish brutality, and +his poor, unlettered, garrulous mother made it worse for him by her +boasting of his parts. She never failed to let it be known that he had +read the Bible through, "from back to back," and the _Cottage +Encyclopedia_, and the _Imitation of Christ_, the three books in the +Newbolt library. + +People had stood by and watched Peter Newbolt at his schemes and dreams +for many a year, and all the time they had seen him growing poorer and +poorer, and marveled that he never appeared to realize it himself. Just +as a great many men spend their lives following the delusion that they +can paint or write, and waste their energies and resources on that false +and destructive idea, Peter had held the dream that he was singled out +to revolutionize industry by his inventions. + +He had invented a self-winding clock which, outside his own shop and in +the hands of another, would not wind; a self-binding reaper that, in his +neighbor's field, would not perform its part; and a lamp that was +designed to manufacture the gas that it burned from the water in its +bowl, but which dismally and ignobly failed. He had contrived and +patented a machine for milking cows, which might have done all that was +claimed for it if anybody--cows included--could have been induced to +give it a trial, and he had fiddled around with perpetual motion until +the place was a litter of broken springs and rusty wheels. + +Nothing had come of all this pother but rustic entertainment, although +he demonstrated the truth of his calculations by geometry, and applied +Greek names to the things which he had done and hoped to do. All this +had eaten up his energies, and his fields had gone but half tilled. +Perhaps back of all Peter's futile strivings there had lain the germ of +some useful thing which, if properly directed, might have grown into the +fortune of his dreams. But he had plodded in small ways, and had died at +last, in debt and hopeless, leaving nothing but a name of reproach which +lived after him, and even hung upon his son that cool April morning as +he went forward to assume the penance that his mother's act had set for +him to bear. + +And the future was clouded to Joe Newbolt now, like a window-pane with +frost upon it, where all had been so clear in his calculations but a day +before. In his heart he feared the ordeal for Isom Chase was a man of +evil repute. + +Long ago Chase's first wife had died, without issue, cursed to her grave +because she had borne him no sons to labor in his fields. Lately he had +married another, a woman of twenty, although he was well along the road +to sixty-five himself. His second wife was a stranger in that community, +the daughter of a farmer named Harrison, who dwelt beyond the +county-seat. + +Chase's homestead was a place pleasant enough for the abode of +happiness, in spite of its grim history and sordid reputation. The mark +of thrift was about it, orchards bloomed upon its fair slopes, its +hedges graced the highways like cool, green walls, not a leaf in excess +upon them, not a protruding bramble. How Isom Chase got all the work +done was a matter of unceasing wonder, for nothing tumbled to ruin +there, nothing went to waste. The secret of it was, perhaps, that when +Chase _did_ hire a man he got three times as much work out of him as a +laborer ordinarily performed. + +There were stories abroad that Chase was as hard and cruel to his young +wife as he had been to his old, but there was no better warrant for them +than his general reputation. It was the custom in those days for a woman +to suffer greater indignities and cruelties than now without public +complaint. There never had been a separation of man and wife in that +community, there never had been a suit for divorce. Doubtless there were +as many unhappy women to the square mile there as in other places, but +custom ruled that they must conceal their sorrows in their breasts. + +To all of these things concerning Isom Chase, Joe Newbolt was no +stranger. He knew, very well indeed, the life that lay ahead of him as +the bondboy of that old man as he went forward along the dew-moist road +that morning. + +Early as it was, Isom Chase had been out of bed two hours or more when +Joe arrived. The scents of frying food came out of the kitchen, and Isom +himself was making a splash in a basin of water--one thing that he could +afford to be liberal with three times a day--on the porch near the open +door. + +Joe had walked three miles, the consuming fires of his growing body were +demanding food. The odors of breakfast struck him with keen relish as he +waited at the steps of the porch, unseen by Isom Chase, who had lifted +his face from the basin with much snorting, and was now drying it on a +coarse brown towel. + +"Oh, you're here," said he, seeing Joe as he turned to hang up the +towel. "Well, come on in and eat your breakfast. We ought to 'a' been in +the field nearly an hour ago." + +Hungry as he was, Joe did not advance to accept the invitation, which +was not warmed by hospitality, indeed, but sounded rather like a +command. He stood where he had stopped, and pushed his flap-brimmed hat +back from his forehead, in nervous movement of decision. Chase turned, +half-way to the door, looking back at his bound boy with impatience. + +"No need for you to be bashful. This is home for a good while to come," +said he. + +"I'm not so very bashful," Joe disclaimed, placing the little roll which +contained his one extra shirt on the wash-bench near the door, taking +off his hat, then, and standing serious and solemn before his new +master. + +"Well, I don't want to stand here waitin' on you and dribble away the +day, for I've got work to do!" said Isom sourly. + +"Yes, sir," said Joe, yielding the point respectfully, but standing his +ground; "but before I go across your doorstep, and sit at your table and +break bread with you, I want you to understand my position in this +matter." + +"It's all settled between your mother and me," said Chase impatiently, +drawing down his bayoneted eyebrows in a frown, "there's no understanding +to come to between me and you--you've got nothing to say in the +transaction. You're bound out to me for two years and three months at ten +dollars a month and all found, and that settles it." + +"No, it don't settle it," said Joe with rising heat; "it only begins it. +Before I put a bite in my mouth in this house, or set my hand to any +work on this place, I'm going to lay down the law to you, Mr. Chase, and +you're going to listen to it, too!" + +"Now, Joe, you've got too much sense to try to stir up a row and rouse +hard feelin's between us at the start," said Isom, coming forward with +his soft-soap of flattery and crafty conciliation. + +"If I hadn't 'a' known that you was the smartest boy of your age +anywhere around here, do you suppose I'd have taken you in this way?" + +"You scared mother into it; you didn't give me a chance to say anything, +and you took an underhanded hold," charged Joe, his voice trembling with +scarce-controlled anger. "It wasn't right, Isom, it wasn't fair. You +know I could hire out any day for more than ten dollars a month, and you +know I'd never let mother go on the county as long as I was able to lift +a hand." + +"Winter and summer through, Joe--you must consider that," argued Isom, +giving his head a twist which was meant to be illustrative of deep +wisdom. + +"You knew she was afraid of being thrown on the county," said Joe, "you +sneaked in when I wasn't around and scared her up so she'd do most +anything." + +"Well, you don't need to talk so loud," cautioned Isom, turning an +uneasy, cross look toward the door, from which the sound of a light step +fled. + +"I'll talk loud enough for you to hear me, and understand what I mean," +said Joe. "I could run off and leave you, Isom, if I wanted to, but +that's not my way. Mother made the bargain, I intend to live up to it, +and let her have what little benefit there is to be got out of it. But I +want you to know what I think of you at the start, and the way I feel +about it. I'm here to work for mother, and keep that old roof over her +head that's dearer to her than life, but I'm not your slave nor your +servant in any sense of the word." + +"It's all the same to me," said Isom, dropping his sham front of +placation, lifting his finger to accent his words, "but you'll work, +understand that--you'll _work_!" + +"Mother told me," said Joe not in the least disturbed by this glimpse of +Isom in his true guise, "that you had that notion in your mind, Isom. +She said you told her you could thrash me if you wanted to do it, but I +want to tell you----" + +"It's the law," cut in Isom. "I can do it if I see fit." + +"Well, don't ever try it," said Joe, drawing a long breath. "That was +the main thing I wanted to say to you, Isom--don't ever try that!" + +"I never intended to take a swingle-tree to you, Joe," said Isom, +forcing his dry face into a grin. "I don't see that there ever need be +any big differences between me and you. You do what's right by me and +I'll do the same by you." + +Isom spoke with lowered voice, a turning of the eyes toward the kitchen +door, as if troubled lest this defiance of his authority might have been +heard within, and the seeds of insubordination sown in another +bond-slave's breast. + +"I'll carry out mother's agreement with you to the best of my ability," +said Joe, moving forward as if ready now to begin. + +"Then come on in and eat your breakfast," said Isom. + +Isom led the way into the smoky kitchen, inwardly more gratified than +displeased over this display of spirit. According to the agreement +between them, he had taken under bond-service the Widow Newbolt's "minor +male child," but it looked to him as if some mistake had been made in +the delivery. + +"He's a man!" exulted Isom in his heart, pleased beyond measure that he +had bargained better than he had known. + +Joe put his lean brown hand into the bosom of his shirt and brought out +a queer, fat little book, leather-bound and worn of the corners. This he +placed on top of his bundle, then followed Chase into the kitchen where +the table was spread for breakfast. + +Mrs. Chase was busy straining milk. She did not turn her head, nor give +the slightest indication of friendliness or interest in Joe as he took +the place pointed out by Chase. Chase said no word of introduction. He +turned his plate over with a businesslike flip, took up the platter +which contained two fried eggs and a few pieces of bacon, scraped off +his portion, and handed the rest to Joe. + +In addition to the one egg each, and the fragments of bacon, there were +sodden biscuits and a broken-nosed pitcher holding molasses. A cup of +roiled coffee stood ready poured beside each plate, and that was the +breakfast upon which Joe cast his curious eyes. It seemed absurdly +inadequate to the needs of two strong men, accustomed as Joe was to four +eggs at a meal, with the stays of life which went with them in +proportion. + +Mrs. Chase did not sit at the table with them, nor replenish the empty +platter, although Joe looked expectantly and hungrily for her to do so. +She was carrying pans of milk into the cellar, and did not turn her head +once in their direction during the meal. + +Joe rose from the table hungry, and in that uneasy state of body began +his first day's labor on Isom Chase's farm. He hoped that dinner might +repair the shortcomings of breakfast, and went to the table eagerly when +that hour came. + +For dinner there was hog-jowl and beans, bitter with salt, yellow with +salt, but apparently greatly to the liking of Isom, whose natural food +seemed to be the very essence of salt. + +"Help yourself, eat plenty," he invited Joe. + +Jowls and beans were cheap; he could afford to be liberal with that +meal. Generosity in regard to that five-year-old jowl cost him scarcely +a pang. + +"Thank you," said Joe politely. "I'm doing very well." + +A place was laid for Mrs. Chase, as at breakfast, but she did not join +them at the table. She was scalding milk crocks and pans, her face was +red from the steam. As she bent over the sink the uprising vapor moved +her hair upon her temples like a wind. + +"Ain't you goin' to eat your dinner, Ollie?" inquired Isom with +considerable lightness, perhaps inspired by the hope that she was not. + +"I don't feel hungry right now," she answered, bending over her steaming +pan of crocks. + +Isom did not press her on the matter. He filled up his plate again with +beans and jowl, whacking the grinning jawbone with his knife to free the +clinging shreds of meat. + +Accustomed as he had been all his life to salt fare, that meal was +beyond anything in that particular of seasoning that Joe ever had +tasted. The fiery demand of his stomach for liquid dilution of his +saline repast made an early drain on his coffee; when he had swallowed +the last bean that he was able to force down, his cup was empty. He cast +his eyes about inquiringly for more. + +"We only drink one cup of coffee at a meal here," explained Isom, a +rebuke in his words for the extravagance of those whose loose habits +carried them beyond that abstemious limit. + +"All right; I guess I can make out on that," said Joe. + +There was a pitcher of water at his hand, upon which he drew heavily, +with the entire good-will and approbation of Isom. Then he took his hat +from the floor at his feet and went out, leaving Isom hammering again at +the jowl, this time with the handle of his fork, in the hope of +dislodging a bit of gristle which clung to one end. + +Joe's hope leaped ahead to supper, unjustified as the flight was by the +day's developments. Human creatures could not subsist longer than a meal +or two on such fare as that, he argued; there must be a change very +soon, of course. + +It was a heavy afternoon for Joe. He was weary from the absolute lack of +nourishment when the last of the chores was done long after dusk, and +Isom announced that they would go to the house for supper. + +The supper began with soup, made from the left-over beans and the +hog's jaw of dinner. There it swam, that fleshless, long-toothed, +salt-reddened bone, the most hateful piece of animal anatomy that Joe +ever fixed his hungry eyes upon. And supper ended as it began; with +soup. There was nothing else behind it, save some hard bread to soak in +it, and its only savor was salt. + +Isom seemed to be satisfied with, even cheered by, his liquid +refreshment. His wife came to her place at the table when they were +almost through, and sat stirring a bowl of the mixture of bread and thin +soup, her eyes set in abstracted stare in the middle of the table, far +beyond the work of her hands. She did not speak to Joe; he did not +undertake any friendly approaches. + +Joe never had seen Mrs. Chase before that day, neighbors though they had +been for months. She appeared unusually handsome to Joe, with her fair +skin, and hair colored like ripe oats straw. She wore a plait of it as +big as his wrist coiled and wound around her head. + +For a little while after finishing his unsatisfying meal, Joe sat +watching her small hand turning the spoon in her soup. He noted the +thinness of her young cheeks, in which there was no marvel, seeing the +fare upon which she was forced to live. She seemed to be unconscious of +him and Isom. She did not raise her eyes. + +Joe got up in a little while and left them, going to the porch to look +for his bundle and his book. They were gone. He came back, standing +hesitatingly in the door. + +"They're in your room upstairs," said Mrs. Chase without turning her +head to look at him, still leaning forward over her bowl. + +"I'll show you where it is," Isom offered. + +He led the way up the stairs which opened from the kitchen, carrying a +small lamp in his hand. + +Joe's room was over the kitchen. It was bleak and bare, its black +rafters hung with spiderwebs, plastered with the nests of wasps. A +dormer window jutted toward the east like a hollow eye, designed, no +doubt, and built by Isom Chase himself, to catch the first gleam of +morning and throw it in the eyes of the sleeping hired-hand, whose bed +stood under it. + +Isom came down directly, took his lantern, and went to the barn to look +after a new-born calf. Where there was profit, such as he counted it, in +gentleness, Isom Chase could be as tender as a mother. Kind words and +caresses, according to his experience, did not result in any more work +out of a wife so he spared them the young woman at the table, as he had +denied them the old one in her grave. + +As Isom hurried out into the soft night, with a word about the calf, +Ollie made a bitter comparison between her lot and that of the animals +in the barn. Less than six months before that gloomy night she had come +to that house a bride, won by the prospect of ease and independence +which Chase had held out to her in the brief season of his adroit +courtship. The meanest men sometimes turn out to be the nimblest +cock-pheasants during that interesting period, and, like those vain +birds of the jungles, they strut and dance and cut dazzling capers +before the eyes of the ladies when they want to strike up a matrimonial +bargain. + +Isom Chase had done that. He had been a surprising lover for a dry man +of his years, spurring around many a younger man in the contest for +Ollie's hand. Together with parental encouragement and her own vain +dreams, she had not found it hard to say the word that made her his +wife. But the gay feathers had fallen from him very shortly after their +wedding day, revealing the worm which they had hidden; the bright colors +of his courtship parade had faded like the fustian decorations of a +carnival in the rain. + +Isom was a man of bone and dry skin, whose greed and penury had starved +his own soul. He had brought her there and put burdens upon her, with +the assurance that it would be only for a little while, until somebody +could be hired to take the work off her hands. Then he had advanced the +plea of hard times, when the first excuse had worn out; now he had +dropped all pretenses. She was serving, as he had married her to serve, +as he had brought her there in unrecompensed bondage to serve, and hope +was gone from her horizon, and her tears were undried upon her cheeks. + +Isom had profited by a good day's work from Joe, and he had not been +obliged to drive him to obtain it. So he was in great spirits when he +came back from the barn, where he had found the calf coming on sturdily +and with great promise. He put out the lantern and turned the lamp down +a shade seeing that it was consuming a twentieth more oil than necessary +to light Ollie about her work. Then he sat down beside the table, +stretching his long legs with a sigh. + +Ollie was washing the few dishes which had served for supper, moving +between table and sink with quick competence, making a neat figure in +the somber room. It was a time when a natural man would have filled his +pipe and brought out the weekly paper, or sat and gossiped a comfortable +hour with his wife. But Isom never had cheered his atrophied nerves with +a whiff of tobacco, and as for the county paper, or any paper whatever +except mortgages and deeds, Isom held all of them to be frauds and +extravagances which a man was better off without. + +"Well, what do you think of the new hand?" asked Isom, following her +with his eyes. + +"I didn't pay any particular notice to him," said she, her back toward +him as she stood scraping a pan at the sink. + +"Did you hear what he said to me this morning when he was standin' there +by the steps?" + +"No, I didn't hear," listlessly, indifferently. + +"H'm--I thought you was listening." + +"I just looked out to see who it was." + +"No difference if you did hear, Ollie," he allowed generously--for Isom. +"A man's wife ought to share his business secrets, according to my way +of lookin' at it; she's got a right to know what's going on. Well, I +tell you that chap talked up to me like a man!" + +Isom smacked his lips over the recollection. The promise of it was sweet +to his taste. + +Ollie's heart stirred a little. She wondered if someone had entered that +house at last who would be able to set at defiance its stern decrees. +She hoped that, if so, this breach in the grim wall might let some +sunlight in time into her own bleak heart. But she said nothing to Isom, +and he talked on. + +"I made a good pick when I lit on that boy," said he, with that old wise +twist of the head; "the best pick in this county, by a long shot. I +choose a man like I pick a horse, for the blood he shows. A blooded +horse will endure where a plug will fall down, and it's the same way +with a man. Ollie, don't you know that boy's got as good a strain in him +as you'll find in this part of the country?" + +"I never saw him before today, I don't know his folks," said she, +apparently little interested in her husband's find. + +Isom sat silent for a while, looking at the worn floor. + +"Well, he's bound out to me for two years and more," said he, the +comfort of it in his hard, plain face. "I'll have a steady hand that I +can depend on now. That's a boy that'll do his duty; no doubt in my mind +about that. It may go against the grain once in a while, Ollie, like our +duty does for all of us sometimes; but, no matter how it tastes to him, +that boy Joe, he'll face it. + +"He's not one of the kind that'll shirk on me when my back's turned, or +steal from me if he gets a chance, or betray any trust I put in him. +He's as poor as blue-John and as proud as Lucifer, but he's as straight +as the barrel of that old gun. He's got Kentucky blood in him, and the +best of it, too." + +"He brought a funny little Bible with him," said Ollie in low voice, as +if communing with herself. + +"Funny?" said Isom. "Is that so?" + +"So little and fat," she explained. "I never saw one like it before. It +was there on the bench this morning with his bundle. I put it up by his +bed." + +"Hum-m," said Isom reflectively, as if considering it deeply. Then: +"Well, I guess it's all right." + +Isom sat a good while, fingering his stiff beard. He gave no surface +indication of the thoughts which were working within him, for he was +unlike those sentimental, plump, thin-skinned people who cannot conceal +their emotions from the world. Isom might have been dreaming of gain, or +he might have been contemplating the day of loss and panic, for all that +his face revealed. Sun and shadow alike passed over it, as rain and +blast and summer sun pass over and beat upon a stone, leaving no mark +behind save in that slow and painful wear which one must live a century +to note. He looked up at his wife at length, his hand still in his +beard, and studied her silently. + +"I'm not a hard man, Ollie, like some people give me the name of being," +he complained, with more gentleness in his voice than she had heard +since he was courting her. He still studied her, as if he expected her +to uphold common report and protest that he was hard and cruel-driving +in his way. She said nothing; Isom proceeded to give himself the good +rating which the world denied. + +"I'm not half as mean as some envious people would make out, if they +could find anybody to take stock in what they say. If I'm not as +honey-mouthed as some, that's because I've got more sense than to +diddle-daddle my time away in words when there's so much to do. I'll +show you that I'm as kind at heart, Ollie, as any man in this county, if +you'll stand by me and do your part of what's to be done without black +looks and grumbles and growls. + +"I'm a good many years older than you, and maybe I'm not as light-footed +and light-headed as you'd like a husband to be, but I've got weight to +me where it counts. I could buy out two-thirds of the young fellers in +this county, Ollie, all in a bunch." + +"Yes, Isom, I guess you could," she allowed, a weary drag in her voice. + +"I'll put a woman in to do the work here in the fall, when I make a turn +of my crops and money comes a little freer than it does right now," he +promised. "Interest on my loans is behind in a good many cases, and +there's no use crowdin' 'em to pay till they sell their wheat and hogs. +If I had the ready money in hand to pay wages, Ollie, I'd put a nigger +woman in here tomorrow and leave you nothing to do but oversee. You'll +have a fine easy time of it this fall, Ollie, when I turn my crops." + +Ollie drained the dishpan and wrung out the cloths. These she hung on a +line to dry. Isom watched her with approval, pleased to see her so +housewifely and neat. + +"Ollie, you've come on wonderful since I married you," said he. "When +you come here--do you recollect?--you couldn't hardly make a mess of +biscuits that was fit to eat, and you knew next to nothing about milk +and butter for all that you was brought up on a farm." + +"Well, I've learned my lesson," said she, with a bitterness which passed +over Isom's head. + +Her back was turned to him, she was reaching to hang a utensil on the +wall, so high above her head that she stood on tiptoe. Isom was not +insensible to the pretty lines of her back, the curve of her plump hips, +the whiteness of her naked arms. He smiled. + +"Well, it's worth money to you to know all these things," said he, "and +I don't know but it's just as well for you to go on and do the work this +summer for the benefit of what's to be got out of it; you'll be all the +better able to oversee a nigger woman when I put one in, and all the +better qualified to take things into your own hands when I'm done and in +the grave. For I'll have to go, in fifteen or twenty years more," he +sighed. + +Ollie made no reply. She was standing with her back still turned toward +him, stripping down her sleeves. But the sigh which she gave breath to +sounded loud in Isom's ears. + +Perhaps he thought she was contemplating with concern the day when he +must give over his strivings and hoardings, and leave her widowed and +alone. That may have moved him to his next excess of generosity. + +"I'm going to let Joe help you around the house a good deal, Ollie," +said he. "He'll make it a lot easier for you this summer. He'll carry +the swill down to the hogs, and water 'em, and take care of the calves. +That'll save you a good many steps in the course of the day." + +Ollie maintained her ungrateful silence. She had heard promises before, +and she had come to that point of hopelessness where she no longer +seemed to care. Isom was accustomed to her silences, also; it appeared +to make little difference to him whether she spoke or held her peace. + +He sat there reflectively a little while; then got up, stretching his +arms, yawning with a noise like a dog. + +"Guess I'll go to bed," said he. + +He looked for a splinter on a stick of stove-wood, which he lit at the +stove and carried to his lamp. At the door he paused, turned, and looked +at Ollie, his hand, hovering like a grub curved beside the chimney, +shading the light from his eyes. + +"So he brought a Bible, did he?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, he's welcome to it," said Isom. "I don't care what anybody that +works for me reads--just so long as he _works_!" + +Isom's jubilation over his bondboy set his young wife's curiosity +astir. She had not noted any romantic or noble parts about the youth in +the casual, uninterested view which she had given him that day. To her +then he had appeared only a sprangling, long-bodied, long-legged, +bony-shouldered, unformed lad whose hollow frame indicated a great +capacity for food. Her only thought in connection with him had been +that it meant another mouth to dole Isom's slender allowance out to, +more scheming on her part to make the rations go round. It meant +another one to wash for, another bed to make. + +She had thought of those things wearily that morning when she heard the +new voice at the kitchen door, and she had gone there for a moment to +look him over; for strange faces, even those of loutish farm-hands, were +refreshing in her isolated life. She had not heard what the lad was +saying to Isom, for the kitchen was large and the stove far away from +the door, but she had the passing thought that there was a good deal of +earnestness or passion in the harangue for a farm-hand to be laying on +his early morning talk. + +When she found the Bible lying there on top of Joe's hickory shirt, she +had concluded that he had been talking religion. She hoped that he would +not preach at his meals. The only religion that Ollie knew anything of, +and not much of that, was a glum and melancholy kind, with frenzied +shoutings of the preacher in it, and portentous shaking of the beard in +the shudderful pictures of the anguish of unrepentant death. So she +hoped that he would not preach at his meals, for the house was sad +enough, and terrible and gloomily hopeless enough, without the kind of +religion that made the night deeper and the day longer in its dread. + +Now Isom's talk about the lad's blood, and his expression of high +confidence in his fealty, gave her a pleasant topic of speculation. Did +good blood make men different from those who came of mongrel strain, in +other points than that of endurance alone? Did it give men nobility and +sympathy and loftiness, or was it something prized by those who hired +them, as Isom seemed to value it in Joe, because it lent strength to the +arms? + +Ollie sat on the kitchen steps and turned all this over in her thoughts +after Isom had gone to bed. + +Perhaps in the new bondboy, who had come there to serve with her, she +would find one with whom she might talk and sometimes ease her heart. +She hoped that it might be so, for she needed chatter and laughter and +the common sympathies of youth, as a caged bird requires the seed of its +wild life. There was hope in the new farm-hand which swept into her +heart like a refreshing breeze. She would look him over and sound him +when he worked, choring between kitchen and barn. + +Ollie had been a poor man's child. Isom had chosen her as he would have +selected a breeding-cow, because nature, in addition to giving her a +form of singular grace and beauty, had combined therein the utilitarian +indications of ability to plentifully reproduce her kind. Isom wanted +her because she was alert and quick of foot, and strong to bear the +burdens of motherhood; for even in the shadow of his decline he still +held to the hope of his youth--that he might leave a son behind him to +guard his acres and bring down his name. + +Ollie was no deeper than her opportunities of life had made her. She had +no qualities of self-development, and while she had graduated from a +high school and still had the ornate diploma among her simple treasures, +learning had passed through her pretty ears like water through a funnel. +It had swirled and choked there a little while, just long enough for her +to make her "points" required for passing, then it had sped on and left +her unencumbered and free. + +Her mother had always held Ollie's beauty a greater asset than mental +graces, and this early appraisement of it at its trading value had made +Ollie a bit vain and ambitious to mate above her family. Isom Chase had +held out to her all the allurements of which she had dreamed, and she +had married him for his money. She had as well taken a stone to her soft +bosom in the hope of warming it into yielding a flower. + +Isom was up at four o'clock next morning. A few minutes after him Ollie +stumbled down the stairs, heavy with the pain of broken sleep. Joe was +snoring above-stairs; the sound penetrated to the kitchen down the +doorless casement. + +"Listen to that feller sawin' gourds!" said Isom crabbedly. + +The gloom of night was still in the kitchen; in the corner where the +stove stood it was so dark that Ollie had to grope her way, yawning +heavily, feeling that she would willingly trade the last year of her +life for one more hour of sleep that moist spring morning. + +Isom mounted the kitchen stairs and roused Joe, lumbering down again +straightway and stringing the milk-pails on his arms without waiting to +see the result of his summons. + +"Send him on down to the barn when he's ready," directed Isom, jangling +away in the pale light of early day. + +Ollie fumbled around in her dark corner for kindling, and started a fire +in the kitchen stove with a great rattling of lids. Perhaps there was +more alarm than necessary in this primitive and homely task, sounded +with the friendly intention of carrying a warning to Joe, who was making +no move to obey his master's call. + +Ollie went softly to the staircase and listened. Joe's snore was +rumbling again, as if he traveled a heavy road in the land of dreams. +She did not feel that she could go and shake him out of his sleep and +warn him of the penalty of such remission, but she called softly from +where she stood: + +"Joe! You must get up, Joe!" + +But her voice was not loud enough to wake a bird. Joe slept on, like a +heavy-headed boor, and she went back to the stove to put the kettle on +to boil. The issue of his recalcitration must be left between him and +Isom. If he had good blood in him, perhaps he would fight when Isom +lifted his hand and beat him out of his sleep, she reflected, hoping +simply that it would turn out that way. + +Isom came back to the house in frothing wrath a quarter of an hour +later. There was no need to ask about Joe, for the bound boy's nostrils +sounded his own betrayal. + +Isom did not look at Ollie as he took the steep stairs four treads at a +step. In a moment she heard the sleeper's bed squeaking in its rickety +old joints as her husband shook him and cut short his snore in the +middle of a long flourish. + +"Turn out of here!" shouted Isom in his most terrible voice--which was +to Ollie's ears indeed a dreadful sound--"turn out and git into your +duds!" + +Ollie heard the old bed give an extra loud groan, as if the sleeper had +drawn himself up in it with suddenness; following that came the quick +scuffling of bare feet on the floor. + +"Don't you touch me! Don't you lay hands on me!" she heard the bound boy +warn, his voice still husky with sleep. + +"I'll skin you alive!" threatened Isom. "You've come here to work, not +to trifle your days away sleepin'. A good dose of strap-oil's what you +need, and I'm the man to give it to you, too!" + +Isom's foot was heavy on the floor over her head, moving about as if in +search of something to use in the flagellation. Ollie stood with hands +to her tumultuous bosom, pity welling in her heart for the lad who was +to feel the vigor of Isom's unsparing arm. + +There was a lighter step upon the floor, moving across the room like a +sudden wind. The bound boy's voice sounded again, clear now and steady, +near the top of the stairs where Isom stood. + +"Put that down! Put that down, I tell you!" he commanded. "I warned you +never to lift your hand against me. If you hit me with that I'll kill +you in your tracks!" + +Ollie's heart leaped at the words; hot blood came into her face with a +surge. She clasped her hands to her breast in new fervor, and lifted her +face as one speeding a thankful prayer. She had heard Isom Chase +threatened and defied in his own house, and the knowledge that one lived +with the courage to do what she had longed to do, lifted her heart and +made it glad. + +She heard Isom growl something in his throat, muffled and low, which she +could not separate into words. + +"Well, then, I'll let it pass--this time," said Joe. "But don't you ever +do it any more. I'm a heavy sleeper sometimes, and this is an hour or +two earlier than I am used to getting up; but if you'll call me loud +enough, and talk like you were calling a man and not a dog, you'll have +no trouble with me. Now get out of here!" + +Ollie could have shouted in the triumph of that moment. She shared the +bound boy's victory and exulted in his high independence. Isom had +swallowed it like a coward; now he was coming down the stairs, snarling +in his beard, but his knotted fist had not enforced discipline; his +coarse, distorted foot had not been lifted against his new slave. She +felt that the dawn was breaking over that house, that one had come into +it who would ease her of its terrors. + +Joe came along after Isom in a little while, slipping his suspenders +over his lank shoulders as he went out of the kitchen door. He did not +turn to Ollie with the morning's greetings, but held his face from her +and hurried on, she thought, as if ashamed. + +Ollie ran to the door on her nimble toes, the dawn of a smile on her +face, now rosy with its new light, and looked after him as he hurried +away in the brightening day. She stood with her hands clasped in +attitude of pleasure, again lifting her face as if to speed a prayer. + +"Oh, thank God for a _man_!" said she. + +Isom was in a crabbed way at breakfast, sulky and silent. But his evil +humor did not appear to weigh with any shadow of trouble on Joe, who ate +what was set before him like a hungry horse and looked around for more. + +Ollie's interest in Joe was acutely sharpened by the incident of rising. +There must be something uncommon, indeed, in a lad of Joe's years, she +thought, to enable him to meet and pass off such a serious thing in that +untroubled way. As she served the table, there being griddle-cakes of +cornmeal that morning to flank the one egg and fragments of rusty bacon +each, she studied the boy's face carefully. She noted the high, clear +forehead, the large nose, the fineness of the heavy, black hair which +lay shaggy upon his temples. She studied the long hands, the grave line +of his mouth, and caught a quick glimpse now and then of his large, +serious gray eyes. + +Here was an uncommon boy, with the man in him half showing; Isom was +right about that. Let it be blood or what it might, she liked him. Hope +of the cheer that he surely would bring into that dark house quickened +her cheek to a color which had grown strange to it in those heavy +months. + +Joe's efforts in the field must have been highly satisfactory to Isom +that forenoon, for the master of the house came to the table at +dinner-time in quite a lively mood. The morning's unpleasantness seemed +to have been forgotten. Ollie noticed her husband more than once during +the meal measuring Joe's capabilities for future strength with +calculating, satisfied eyes. She sat at the table with them, taking +minute note of Joe at closer range, studying him curiously, awed a +little by the austerity of his young face, and the melancholy of his +eyes, in which there seemed to lie the concentrated sorrow of many +forebears who had suffered and died with burdens upon their hearts. + +"Couldn't you manage to pick us a mess of dandelion for supper, Ollie?" +asked Isom. "I notice it's comin' up thick in the yard." + +"I might, if I could find the time," said Ollie. + +"Oh, I guess you'll have time enough," said Isom, severely. + +Her face grew pale; she lowered her head as if to hide her fear from +Joe. + +"Cook it with a jowl," ordered Isom; "they go fine together, and it's +good for the blood." + +Joe was beginning to yearn forward to Sunday, when he could go home to +his mother for a satisfying meal, of which he was sharply feeling the +need. It was a mystery to him how Isom kept up on that fare, so scant +and unsatisfying, but he reasoned that it must be on account of there +being so little of him but gristle and bone. + +Joe looked ahead now to the term of his bondage under Isom; the prospect +gave him an uneasy concern. He was afraid that the hard fare and harder +work would result in stunting his growth, like a young tree that has +come to a period of drought green and promising, and stands checked and +blighted, never again to regain the hardy qualities which it needs to +raise it up into the beauty of maturity. + +The work gave him little concern; he knew that he could live and put on +strength through that if he had the proper food. So there would have to +be a change in the fare, concluded Joe, as he sat there while Isom +discussed the merits of dandelion and jowl. It would have to come very +early in his term of servitude, too. The law protected the bondman in +that, no matter how far it disregarded his rights and human necessities +in other ways. So thinking, he pushed away from the table and left the +room. + +Isom drank a glass of water, smacked his dry lips over its excellencies, +the greatest of them in his mind being its cheapness, and followed it by +another. + +"Thank the Lord for water, anyhow!" said he. + +"Yes, there's plenty of that," said Ollie meaningly. + +Isom was as thick-skinned as he was sapless. Believing that his +penurious code was just, and his frugality the first virtue of his life, +he was not ashamed of his table, and the outcast scraps upon it. But he +looked at his young wife with a sharp drawing down of his spiked brows +as he lingered there a moment, his cracked brown hands on the edge of +the table, which he had clutched as he pushed his chair back. He seemed +about to speak a rebuke for her extravagance of desire. The frown on his +face foreshadowed it, but presently it lifted, and he nodded shrewdly +after Joe. + +"Give him a couple of eggs mornings after this," said he, "they've fell +off to next to nothing in price, anyhow. And eat one yourself once in a +while, Ollie. I ain't one of these men that believe a woman don't need +the same fare as a man, once on a while, anyhow." + +His generous outburst did not appear to move his wife's gratitude. She +did not thank him by word or sign. Isom drank another glass of water, +rubbed his mustache and beard back from his lips in quick, grinding +twists of his doubled hand. + +"The pie-plant's comin' out fast," said he, "and I suppose we might as +well eat it--nothing else but humans will eat it--for there's no sale +for it over in town. Seems like everybody's got a patch of it nowadays. + +"Well, it's fillin', as the old woman said when she swallowed her +thimble, and that boy Joe he's going to be a drain on me to feed, I can +see that now. I'll have to fill him up on something or other, and I +guess pie-plant's about as good as anything. It's cheap." + +"Yes, but it takes sugar," ventured Ollie, rolling some crumbs between +her fingers. + +"You can use them molasses in the blue barrel," instructed Isom. + +"It's about gone," said she. + +"Well, put some water in the barrel and slosh it around--it'll come out +sweet enough for a mess or two." + +Isom got up from the table as he gave these economic directions, and +stood a moment looking down at his wife. + +"Don't you worry over feedin' that feller, Ollie," he advised. "I'll +manage that. I aim to keep him stout--I never saw a stouter feller for +his age than Joe--for I'm goin' to git a pile of work out of him the +next two years. I saw you lookin' him over this morning," said he, +approvingly, as he might have sanctioned her criticism of a new horse, +"and I could see you was lightin' on his points. Don't you think he's +all I said he was?" + +"Yes," she answered, a look of abstraction in her eyes, her fingers busy +with the crumbs on the cloth, "all you said of him--_and more_!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE SPARK IN THE CLOD + + +It did not cost Isom so many pangs to minister to the gross appetite of +his bound boy as the spring weeks marched into summer, for gooseberries +followed rhubarb, then came green peas and potatoes from the garden that +Ollie had planted and tilled under her husband's orders. + +Along in early summer the wormy codlings which fell from the apple-trees +had to be gathered up and fed to the hogs by Ollie, and it was such a +season of blighted fruit that the beasts could not eat them all. So +there was apple sauce, sweetened with molasses from the new barrel that +Isom broached. + +If it had not been so niggardly unnecessary, the faculty that Isom had +for turning the waste ends of the farm into profit would have been +admirable. But the suffering attendant upon this economy fell only upon +the human creatures around him. Isom's beasts wallowed in plenty and +grew fat in the liberality of his hand. For himself, it looked as if he +had the ability to extract his living from the bare surface of a rock. + +All of this green truck was filling, as Isom had said, but far from +satisfying to a lad in the process of building on such generous plans as +Joe. Isom knew that too much skim-milk would make a pot-bellied calf, +but he was too stubborn in his rule of life to admit the cause when he +saw that Joe began to lag at his work, and grow surly and sour. + +Isom came in for quick and startling enlightenment in the middle of a +lurid July morning, while he and Joe were at work with one-horse +cultivators, "laying by" the corn. Joe threw his plow down in the +furrow, cast the lines from his shoulders, and declared that he was +starving. He vowed that he would not cultivate another row unless +assured, then and there, that Isom would make an immediate enlargement +in the bill-of-fare. + +Isom stood beside the handles of his own cultivator, there being the +space of ten rows between him and Joe, and took the lines from around +his shoulders, with the deliberate, stern movement of a man who is +preparing for a fight. + +"What do you mean by this kind of capers?" he demanded. + +"I mean that you can't go on starving me like you've been doing, and +that's all there is to it!" said Joe. "The law don't give you the right +to do that." + +"Law! Well, I'll law you," said Isom, coming forward, his hard body +crouched a little, his lean and guttered neck stretched as if he +gathered himself for a run and jump at the fence. "I'll feed you what +comes to my hand to feed you, you onery whelp! You're workin' for me, +you belong to me!" + +"I'm working for mother--I told you that before," said Joe. "I don't owe +you anything, Isom, and you've got to feed me better, or I'll walk away +and leave you, that's what I'll do!" + +"Yes, I see you walkin' away!" said Isom, plucking at his already +turned-up sleeve. "I'm goin' to give you a tannin' right now, and one +you'll not forget to your dyin' day!" + +At that moment Isom doubtless intended to carry out his threat. Here was +a piece of his own property, as much his property as his own wedded +wife, defying him, facing him with extravagant demands, threatening to +stop work unless more bountifully fed! Truly, it was a state of +insurrection such as no upright citizen like Isom Chase could allow to +go by unreproved and unquieted by castigation of his hand. + +"You'd better stop where you are," advised Joe. + +He reached down and righted his plow. Isom could see the straining of +the leaders in his lean wrist as he stood gripping the handle, and the +thought passed through him that Joe intended to wrench it off and use it +as a weapon against him. + +Isom had come but a few steps from his plow. He stopped, looking down at +the furrow as if struggling to hold himself within bounds. Still looking +at the earth, he went back to his implement. + +"I'll put you where the dogs won't bite you if you ever threaten my life +ag'in!" said he. + +"I didn't threaten your life, Isom, I didn't say a word," said Joe. + +"A motion's a threat," said Isom. + +"But I'll tell you now," said Joe, quietly, lowering his voice and +leaning forward a little, "you'd better think a long time before you +ever start to lay hands on me again, Isom. This is twice. The next +time----" + +Joe set his plow in the furrow with a push that sent the swingle-tree +knocking against the horse's heels. The animal started out of the doze +into which it had fallen while the quarrel went on. Joe grinned, +thinking how even Isom's dumb creatures took every advantage of him that +opportunity offered. But he left his warning unfinished as for words. + +There was no need to say more, for Isom was cowed. He was quaking down +to the tap-root of his salt-hardened soul, but he tried to put a +different face on it as he took up his plow. + +"I don't want to cripple you, and lay you up," he said. "If I was to +begin on you once I don't know where I'd leave off. Git back to your +work, and don't give me any more of your sass!" + +"I'll go back to work when you give me your word that I'm to have meat +and eggs, butter and milk, and plenty of it," said Joe. + +"I orto tie you up to a tree and lash you!" said Isom, jerking angrily +at his horse. "I don't know what ever made me pity your mother and keep +her out of the poorhouse by takin' in a loafer like you!" + +"Well, if you're sick of the bargain go and tell mother. Maybe she is, +too," Joe suggested. + +"No, you'll not git out of it now, you'll stick right here and put in +your time, after all the trouble and expense I've been put to teachin' +you what little you know about farmin'," Isom declared. + +He took up his plow and jerked his horse around into the row. Joe stood +watching him, with folded arms, plainly with no intention of following. +Isom looked back over his shoulder. + +"Git to work!" he yelled. + +"You didn't promise me what I asked," said Joe, quietly. + +"No, and that ain't all!" returned Isom. + +The tall corn swallowed Isom and his horse as the sea swallowed Pharaoh +and his host. When he returned to the end of the field where the +rebellion had broken out, he found Joe sitting on the beam of his plow +and the well-pleased horse asleep in the sun. + +Isom said nothing, but plunged away into the tall corn. When he came +back next time Joe was unhitching his horse. + +"Now, look a-here, Joe," Isom began, in quite a changed tone, "don't you +fly up and leave an old man in the lurch that way." + +"You know what I said," Joe told him. + +"I'll give in to you, Joe; I'll give you everything you ask for, and +more," yielded Isom, seeing that Joe intended to leave. "I'll put it in +writing if you want me to Joe--I'll do anything to keep you, son. You're +the only man I ever had on this place I wouldn't rather see goin' than +comin'." + +Isom's word was satisfactory to Joe, and he returned to work. + +That turned out a day to be remembered in the household of Isom Chase. +If he had come into the kitchen at noon with all the hoarded savings of +his years and thrown them down before her eyes, Ollie could not have +been more surprised and mystified than she was when he appeared from the +smokehouse carrying a large ham. + +After his crafty way in a tight pinch Isom turned necessity into profit +by making out that the act was free and voluntary, with the pleasure and +comfort of his pretty little wife underlying and prompting it all. He +grinned as if he would break his beard when he put the ham down on the +table and cut it in two at the middle joint as deftly as a butcher. + +"I've been savin' that ham up for you, Ollie. I think it's just about +right now," said he. + +"That was nice of you, Isom," said she, moved out of her settled +taciturnity by his little show of thought for her, "I've been just dying +for a piece of ham!" + +"Well, fry us a big skilletful of it, and some eggs along with it, and +fetch up a crock of sweet milk, and stir it up cream and all," directed +Isom. + +Poor Ollie, overwhelmed by the suddenness and freedom of this +generosity, stood staring at him, her eyes round, her lips open. Isom +could not have studied a more astounding surprise. If he had hung +diamonds on her neck, rubies on her wrists, and garnets in her hair, she +could quicker have found her tongue. + +"It's all right, Ollie, it's all right," said Isom pettishly. "We're +going to have these things from now on. Might as well eat 'em, and git +some of the good of what we produce, as let them city people fatten off +'em." + +Isom went out with that, and Ollie attacked the ham with the butcher +knife in a most savage and barbarous fashion. + +Isom's old wife must have shifted in her grave at sight of the prodigal +repast which Ollie soon spread on the kitchen table. Granting, of +course, that people in their graves are cognizant of such things, which, +according to this old standard of comparison in human amazement, they +must be. + +But whether the old wife turned over or lay quiescent in the place where +they put her when they folded her tired old hands upon her shrunken +breast, it is indisputable that the new one eased the pangs of many a +hungry day in that bountiful meal. And Joe's face glowed from the fires +of it, and his eyes sparkled in the satisfaction of his long-abused +stomach. + +Next day a more startling thing happened. Twice each week there passed +through the country, from farm to farm, a butcher's wagon from +Shelbyville, the county-seat, a few miles away. Isom Chase never had +been a customer of the fresh meat purveyor, and the traveling merchant, +knowing from the old man's notoriety that he never could expect him to +become one, did not waste time in stopping at his house. His surprise +was almost apoplectic when Isom stopped him and bought a soup-bone, and +it almost became fatal when the order was made a standing one. It was +such a remarkable event that the meat man told about it at every stop. +It went round the country like the news of a wedding or a death. + +Isom seemed to be satisfied with the new dietary regulations, for hams +were cheap that summer, anyhow, and the season was late. Besides that, +the more that Joe ate the harder he worked. It seemed a kind of +spontaneous effort on the lad's part, as if it was necessary to burn up +the energy in surplus of the demand of his growing bone and muscle. + +Ollie had picked up and brightened under the influence of ham and milk +also, although it was all a foolish yielding to appetite, as Isom very +well knew. He had beaten that weakness in himself to death with the club +of abstinence; for himself he could live happily on what he had been +accustomed to eating for thirty years and more. But as long as the +investment of ham and milk paid interest in kitchen as well as field, +Isom was grudgingly willing to see them consumed. + +Ollie's brightening was only physical. In her heart she was as gloomily +hopeless as before. After his first flash of fire she had not found much +comfort or hope of comradeship in the boy, Joe Newbolt. He was so +respectful in her presence, and so bashful, it seemed, that it almost +made her uncomfortable to have him around. + +Man that he was in stature, he appeared no more than a timid boy in +understanding, and her little advances of friendliness, her little +appeals for sympathy, all glanced from the unconscious armor of his +youthful innocence and reserve. She was forced to put him down after +many weeks as merely stupid, and she sighed when she saw the hope of +comradeship in her hard lot fade out and give way to a feeling bordering +upon contempt. + +On Sunday evenings, after he came back from visiting his mother, Ollie +frequently saw Joe reading the little brown Bible which he had carried +with him when he came. She had taken it up one day while making Joe's +bed. It brought back to her the recollection of her Sunday-school days, +when she was all giggles and frills; but there was no association of +religious training to respond to its appeal. She wondered what Joe saw +in it as she put it back on the box beside his bed. + +It chanced that she met Joe the next morning after she had made that +short incursion between the brown covers of his book, as she was +returning from the well and he was setting out for the hog-lot between +two pails of sour swill. He stood out of the path to let her pass +without stepping into the long, dewy grass. She put her bucket down with +a gasp of weariness, and looked up into his eyes with a smile. + +The buckets were heavy in Joe's hands; he stood them down, meeting her +friendly advances with one of his rare smiles, which came as seldom to +his face, thought she, as a hummingbird to the honeysuckle on the +kitchen porch. + +"Whew, this is going to be a scorcher!" said she. + +"I believe it is," he agreed. + +From the opposite sides of the path their eyes met. Both smiled again, +and felt better for it. + +"My, but you're a mighty religious boy, aren't you?" she asked +suddenly. + +"Religious?" said he, looking at her in serious surprise. + +She nodded girlishly. The sun, long slanting through the cherry-trees, +fell on her hair, loosely gathered up after her sleep, one free strand +on her cheek. + +"No, I'm not religious." + +"Well, you read the Bible all the time." + +"Oh, well!" said he, stooping as if to lift his pails. + +"Why?" she wanted to know. + +Joe straightened his long back without his pails. Beyond the orchard the +hogs were clamoring shrilly for their morning draught; from the barn +there came the sound of Isom's voice, speaking harshly to the beasts. + +"Well, because I like it, for one thing," said he, "and because it's the +only book I've got here, for another." + +"My, I think it's awful slow!" said she. + +"Do you?" he inquired, as if interested in her likes and dislikes at +last. + +"I'd think you'd like other books better--detective stories and that +kind," she ventured. "Didn't you ever read any other book?" + +"Some few," he replied, a reflection as of amusement in his eyes, which +she thought made them look old and understanding and wise. "But I've +always read the Bible. It's one of the books that never seems to get old +to you." + +"Did you ever read _True as Steel_?" + +"No, I never did." + +"Or _Tempest and Sunshine_?" + +He shook his head. + +"Oh-h," said she, fairly lifting herself by the long breath which she +drew, like the inhalation of a pleasant recollection, "you don't know +what you've missed! They are lovely!" + +"Well, maybe I'd like them, too." + +He stooped again, and this time came up with his pails. + +"I'm glad you're not religious, anyhow," she sighed, as if heaving a +trouble off her heart. + +"Are you?" he asked, turning to her wonderingly. + +"Yes; religious people are so glum," she explained. "I never saw one of +them laugh." + +"There are some that way," said Joe. "They seem to be afraid they'll go +to hell if they let the Almighty hear them laugh. Mother used to be that +way when she first got _her_ religion, but she's outgrowing it now." + +"The preachers used to scare me to death," she declared. "If I could +hear some comfortable religion I might take up with it, but it seems to +me that everybody's so sad after they get it. I don't know why." + +Joe put down the pails again. Early as the day was, it was hot, and he +was sweating. He pushed his hat back from his forehead. It was like +lifting a shadow from his serious young face. She smiled. + +"A person generally gets the kind of religion that he hears preached," +said he, "and most of it you hear is kind of heavy, like bread without +rising. I've never seen a laughing preacher yet." + +"There must be some, though," she reflected. + +"I hope so," said Joe. + +"I'm _glad_ you're not full of that kind of religion," said she. "For a +long time I thought you were." + +"You did? Why?" + +"Oh, because--" said she. + +Her cheek was toward him; he saw that it was red, like the first tint of +a cherry. She snatched up her bucket then and sped along the path. + +Joe walked on a little way, stopped, turned, and looked after her. He +saw the flick of her skirt as her nimble heels flew up the three steps +of the kitchen porch, and he wondered why she was glad that he was not +religious, and why she had gone away like that, so fast. The pigs were +clamoring, shriller, louder. It was no hour for a youth who had not yet +wetted his feet in manhood's stream to stand looking after a pair of +heels and try to figure out a thing like that. + +As Joe had said, he was not religious, according to catechisms and +creeds. He could not have qualified in the least exacting of the many +faiths. All the religion that he had was of his own making, for his +mother's was altogether too ferocious in its punishments and too dun and +foggy in its rewards for him. + +He read the Bible, and he believed most of it. There was as much +religion, said he, in the Commandments as a man needed; a man could get +on with that much very well. Beyond that he did not trouble. + +He read the adventures of David and the lamentations of Jeremiah, and +the lofty exhortations of Isaiah for the sonority of the phrasing, the +poetry and beauty. For he had not been sated by many tales nor blunted +by many books. If he could manage to live according to the Commandments, +he sometimes told his mother, he would not feel uneasy over a better way +to die. + +But he was not giving this matter much thought as he emptied the +swill-pails to the chortling hogs. He was thinking about the red in +Ollie's cheeks, like the breast of a bright bird seen through the +leaves, and of her quick flight up the path. It was a new Ollie that he +had discovered that morning, one unknown and unspoken to before that +day. But why had her face grown red that way, he wondered? Why had she +run away? + +And Ollie, over her smoking pan on the kitchen stove, was thinking that +something might be established in the way of comradeship between herself +and the bound boy, after all. It took him a long time to get acquainted, +she thought; but his friendship might be all the more stable for that. +There was comfort in it; as she worked she smiled. + +There was no question of the need in which Ollie stood of friendship, +sympathy, and kind words. Joe had been in that house six months, and in +that time he had witnessed more pain than he believed one small woman's +heart could bear. While he was not sure that Isom ever struck his wife, +he knew that he tortured her in endless combinations of cruelty, and +pierced her heart with a thousand studied pangs. Often, when the house +was still and Isom was asleep, he heard her moaning and sobbing, her +head on the kitchen table. + +These bursts of anguish were not the sudden gusts of a pettish woman's +passion, but the settled sorrow of one who suffered without hope. +Many a time Joe tiptoed to the bottom of the staircase in his bare +feet and looked at her, the moonlight dim in the cheerless kitchen, her +head a dark blotch upon the whiteness of her arms, bowed there in +her grief. Often he longed to go to her with words of comfort and let +her know that there was one at least who pitied her hard fate and +sad disillusionment. + +In those times of tribulation Joe felt that they could be of mutual help +and comfort if they could bring themselves to speak, for he suffered +also the pangs of imprisonment and the longings for liberty in that +cruel house of bondage. Yet he always turned and went softly, almost +breathlessly, back to his bed, leaving her to sob and cry alone in the +struggle of her hopeless sorrow. + +It was a harder matter to keep his hands from the gristly throat of grim +old Isom Chase, slumbering unfeelingly in his bed while his young wife +shredded her heart between the burr-stones of his cruel mill. Joe had +many an hour of struggle with himself, lying awake, his hot temples +streaming sweat, his eyes staring at the ribs of the roof. + +During those months Joe had set and hardened. The muscles had thickened +over his chest and arms; his neck was losing the long scragginess of +youth; his fingers were firm-jointed in his broadening hands. He knew +that Isom Chase was no match for him, man to man. + +But, for all his big body and great strength, he was only a boy in his +sense of justice, in his hot, primitive desire to lunge out quickly and +set the maladjustments of that household straight. He did not know that +there was a thing as old as the desires of men at the bottom of Ollie's +sorrow, nor understand the futility of chastisement in the case of Isom +Chase. + +Isom was as far as ever from his hope of a son or heir of any +description--although he could not conceive the possibility of fathering +a female child--and his bitter reproaches fell on Ollie, as they had +fallen upon and blasted the woman who had trudged that somber course +before her into the grateful shelter of the grave. It was a thing which +Ollie could not discuss with young Joe, a thing which only a sympathetic +mother might have lightened the humiliation of or eased with tender +counsel. + +Isom, seeing that the book of his family must close with him, expelled +the small grain of tenderness that his dry heart had held for his wife +at the beginning, and counted her now nothing but another back to bear +his burdens. He multiplied her tasks, and snarled and snapped, and more +than once in those work-crowded autumn days, when she had lagged in her +weariness, he had lifted his hand to strike. The day would come when +that threatened blow would fall; of that Ollie had no consoling doubt. +She did not feel that she would resent it, save in an addition to her +accumulated hate, for hard labor by day and tears by night break the +spirit until the flints of cruelty no longer wake its fire. + +Day after day, as he worked by the side of Isom in the fields, Joe had +it foremost in his mind to speak to him of his unjust treatment of his +wife. Yet he hung back out of the Oriental conception which he held, due +to his Scriptural reading, of that relationship between woman and man. A +man's wife was his property in a certain, broad sense. It would seem +unwarranted by any measure of excess short of murder for another to +interfere between them. Joe held his peace, therefore, but with internal +ferment and unrest. + +It was in those days of Joe's disquietude that Ollie first spoke to him +of Isom's oppressions. The opportunity fell a short time after their +early morning meeting in the path. Isom had gone to town with a load of +produce, and Joe and Ollie had the dinner alone for the first time since +he had been under that roof. + +Ollie's eyes were red and swollen from recent weeping, her face was +mottled from her tears. Much trouble had made her careless of late of +her prettiness, and now she was disheveled, her apron awry around her +waist, her hair mussed, her whole aspect one of slovenly disregard. Her +depression was so great that Joe was moved to comfort her. + +"You've got a hard time of it," said he. "If there's anything I can do +to help you I wish you'd let me know." + +Ollie slung a dish carelessly upon the table, and followed it with Joe's +coffee, which she slopped half out into the saucer. + +"Oh, I feel just like I don't care any more!" said she, her lips +trembling, tears starting again in her irritated eyes. "I get treatment +here that no decent man would give a dog!" + +Joe felt small and young in Ollie's presence, due to the fact that she +was older by a year at least than himself. + +That feeling of littleness had been one of his peculiarities as long as +he could remember when there were others about older than himself, and +supposed from that reason to be graver and wiser. It probably had its +beginning in Joe's starting out rather spindling and undersized, and not +growing much until he was ten or thereabout, when he took a sudden shoot +ahead, like a water-sprout on an apple-tree. + +And then he always had regarded matrimony as a state of gravity and +maturity, into which the young and unsophisticated did not venture. This +feeling seemed to place between them in Joe's mind a boundless gulf, +across which he could offer her only the sympathy and assistance of a +boy. There was nothing in his mind of sympathy from an equality of years +and understanding, only the chivalric urging of succor to the +oppressed. + +"It's a low-down way for a man to treat a woman, especially his wife," +said Joe, his indignation mounting at sight of her tears. + +"Yes, and he'd whip you, too, if he dared to do it," said she, sitting +in Isom's place at the end of the table, where she could look across +into Joe's face. "I can see that in him when he watches you eat." + +"I hope he'll never try it," said Joe. + +"You're not afraid of him?" + +"Maybe not," admitted Joe. + +"Then why do you say you hope he'll never try it?" she pressed. + +"Oh, because I do," said Joe, bending over his plate. + +"I'd think you'd be glad if he did try it, so you could pay him off for +his meanness," she said. + +Joe looked across at her seriously. + +"Did he slap you this morning?" he asked. + +Ollie turned her head, making no reply. + +"I thought I heard you two scuffling around in the kitchen as I came to +the porch with the milk," said he. + +"Don't tell it around!" she appealed, her eyes big and terrified at the +recollection of what had passed. "No, he didn't hit me, Joe; but he +choked me. He grabbed me by the throat and shook me--his old hand's as +hard as iron!" + +Joe had noticed that she wore a handkerchief pinned around her neck. As +she spoke she put her hand to her throat, and her tears gushed again. + +"That's no way for a man to treat his wife," said Joe indignantly. + +"If you knew everything--_if you knew everything_!" said she. + +Joe, being young, and feeling younger, could not see how she was +straining to come to a common footing of understanding with him, to +reach a plane where his sympathy would be a balm. He could not realize +that her orbit of thought was similar to his own, that she was nearer a +mate for him, indeed, than for hairy-limbed, big-jointed Isom Chase, +with his grizzled hair and beard. + +"It was all over a little piece of ribbon I bought yesterday when I took +the eggs up to the store," she explained. "I got two cents a dozen more +than I expected for them, and I put the extra money into a ribbon--only +half a yard. Here it is," said she, taking it from the cupboard; "I +wanted it to wear on my neck." + +She held it against her swathed throat with a little unconscious play of +coquetry, a sad smile on her lips. + +"It's nice, and becoming to you, too," said Joe, speaking after the +manner of the countryside etiquette on such things. + +"Isom said I ought to have put the money into a package of soda, and +when I wouldn't fuss with him about it, that made him madder and madder. +And then he--he--did that!" + +"You wouldn't think Isom would mind ten cents," said Joe. + +"He'd mind one cent," said she in bitter disdain. "One cent--_huh_! he'd +mind one egg! Some people might not believe it, but I tell you, Joe, +that man counts the eggs every day, and he weighs every pound of butter +I churn. If I wanted to, even, I couldn't hide away a pound of butter or +a dozen of eggs any more than I could hide away that stove." + +"But I don't suppose Isom means to be hard on you or anybody," said Joe. +"It's his way to be close and stingy, and he may do better by you one of +these days." + +"No, he'll never do any better," she sighed. "If anything, he'll do +worse--if he can do any worse. I look for him to strike me next!" + +"He'd better not try that when I'm around!" said Joe hotly. + +"What would you do to him, Joe?" she asked, her voice lowered almost to +a whisper. She leaned eagerly toward him as she spoke, a flush on her +face. + +"Well, I'd stop him, I guess," said Joe deliberately, as if he had +considered his words. As he spoke he reached down for his hat, which he +always placed on the floor beside his chair when he took his meals. + +"If there was a soul in this world that cared for me--if I had anywhere +to go, I'd leave him this hour!" declared Ollie, her face burning with +the hate of her oppressor. + +Joe got up from his chair and left the table; she rose with him and came +around the side. He stopped on his way to the door, looking at her with +awkward bashfulness as she stood there flushed and brilliant in her +tossed state, scarcely a yard between them. + +"But there's nobody in the world that cares for me," she complained +sorrowfully. + +Joe was lifting his hat to his head. Midway he stayed his hand, his face +blank with surprise. + +"Why, you've got your mother, haven't you?" he asked. + +"Mother!" she repeated scornfully. "She'd drive me back to him; she was +crazy for me to marry him, for she thinks I'll get all his property and +money when he dies." + +"Well, he may die before long," consoled Joe. + +"Die!" said she; and again, "Die! He'll never die!" + +She leaned toward him suddenly, bringing her face within a few inches of +his. Her hot breath struck him on the cheek; it moved the clustered hair +at his temple and played warm in the doorway of his ear. + +"He'll never die," she repeated in low, quick voice, which fell to a +whisper in the end, "unless somebody he's tramped on and ground down and +cursed and driven puts him out of the way!" + +Joe stood looking at her with big eyes, dead to that feminine shock +which would have tingled a mature man to the marrow, insensible to the +strong effort she was making to wake him and draw him to her. He drew +back from her, a little frightened, a good deal ashamed, troubled, and +mystified. + +"Why, you don't suppose anybody would do that?" said he. + +Ollie turned from him, the fire sinking down in her face. + +"Oh, no; I don't suppose so," she said, a little distant and cold in her +manner. + +She began gathering up the dishes. + +Joe stood there for a little while, looking at her hands as they flew +from plate to plate like white butterflies, as if something had stirred +in him that he did not understand. Presently he went his way to take up +his work, no more words passing between them. + +Ollie, from under her half raised lids, watched him go, tiptoeing +swiftly after him to the door as he went down the path toward the well. +Her breath was quick upon her lips; her breast was agitated. If that +slow hunk could be warmed with a man's passions and desires; if she +could wake him; if she could fling fire into his heart! He was only a +boy, the man in him just showing its strong face behind that mask of +wild, long hair. It lay there waiting to move him in ways yet strange to +his experience. If she might send her whisper to that still slumbering +force and charge it into life a day before its time! + +She stood with hand upon the door, trailing him with her eyes as he +passed on to the barn. She felt that she had all but reached beyond the +insulation of his adolescence in that burning moment when her breath was +on his cheek; she knew that the wood, even that hour, was warm under the +fire. What might a whisper now, a smile then, a kindness, a word, a hand +laid softly upon his hair, work in the days to come? + +She turned back to her work, her mind stirred out of its sluggish rut, +the swirl of her new thoughts quickening in her blood. Isom Chase would +not die; he would live on and on, harder, drier, stingier year by year, +unless a bolt from heaven withered him or the hand of man laid him low. +What might come to him, he deserved, even the anguish of death with a +strangling cord about his neck; even the strong blow of an ax as he +slept on his bed, snatching from him the life that he had debased of all +its beauty, without the saving chance of repentance in the end. + +She had thought of doing it with her own hand; a hundred ways she had +planned and contrived it in her mind, goaded on nearer and nearer to it +by his inhuman oppressions day by day. But her heart had recoiled from +it as a task for the hand of a man. If a man could be raised up to it, a +man who had suffered servitude with her, a man who would strike for the +double vengeance, and the love of her in his heart! + +She went to the door again, gripping the stove-lid lifter in her little +hand, as the jangle of harness came to her when Joe passed with the +team. He rode by toward the field, the sun on his broad back, slouching +forward as his heavy horses plodded onward. The man in him was asleep +yet, yes; but there was a pit of fire as deep as a volcano's throat in +his slumbering soul. + +If she could lift him up to it, if she could pluck the heart out of him +and warm it in her own hot breast, then there would stand the man for +her need. For Isom Chase would not die. He would live on and on, like a +worm in wood, until some strong hand fed him to the flames. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A STRANGER AT THE GATE + + +Rain overtook Isom as he was driving home from town that evening, and +rain was becoming one of the few things in this world from which he +would flee. It aggravated the rheumatism in his knotted toes and stabbed +his knee-joints with awl-piercing pains. + +For upward of forty-five years Isom had been taking the rains as they +came wherever they might find him. It made him growl to turn tail to +them now, and trot to shelter from every shower like a hen. + +So he was in no sweet humor as he drew near his own barn-yard gate with +the early autumn downpour already finding its way through his coat. It +came to him as he approached that portal of his domain that if he had a +son the boy would be there, with the gate flung wide, to help him. It +was only one of the thousand useful offices which a proper boy could +fill around that place, thought he; but his wives had conspired in +barrenness against him; no son ever would come to cheer his declining +days. + +Even if he had the kind of a wife that a man should have, reflected he, +she would be watching; she would come through rain and hail, thunder and +wild blast, to open the gate and ease him through without that +troublesome stop. + +Matrimony had been a profitless investment for him, said he in +bitterness. His first wife had lived long and eaten ravenously, and had +worn out shoes and calico slips, and his second, a poor unwilling hand, +was not worth her keep. + +So, with all this sour summing up of his wasted ventures in his mind, +and the cold rain spitting through his years-worn coat, Isom was in no +humor to debate the way with another man when it came to entering into +his own property through his own wide gate. + +But there was another man in the road, blocking it with his top-buggy, +one foot out on the step, his head thrust around the side of the hood +with inquiring look, as if he also felt that there should be somebody at +hand to open the gate and let him pass without muddying his feet. + +"Ho!" called Isom uncivilly, hailing the stranger as he pulled up his +team, the end of his wagon-tongue threatening the hood of the buggy; +"what do you want here?" + +The stranger put his head out a bit farther and twisted his neck to look +behind. He did not appear to know Isom, any more than Isom knew him, but +there was the surliness of authority, the inhospitality of ownership, in +Isom's mien, and it was the business of the man in the buggy to know men +at a glance. He saw that Isom was the landlord, and he gave him a nod +and smile. + +"I'd like to get shelter for my horse and buggy for the night, and +lodging for myself," said he. + +"Well, if you pay for it I reckon you can git it," returned Isom. "Pile +out there and open that gate." + +That was the way that Curtis Morgan, advance agent of the divine light +of literature, scout of knowledge, torch-bearer of enlightenment into +the dark places of ignorance, made his way into the house of Isom Chase, +and found himself in due time at supper in the low-ceiled kitchen, with +pretty Ollie, like a bright bead in a rusty purse, bringing hot biscuits +from the oven and looking him over with a smile. + +Curtis Morgan was a slim and limber man, with a small head and a big +mouth, a most flexible and plastic organ. Morgan wore a mustache which +was cut back to stubs, giving his face a grubby look about the nose. His +light hair was short and thick, curling in little love-locks about his +ears. + +Morgan sold books. He would put you in a set of twenty-seven volumes of +the _History of the World_ for fifty-three dollars, or he would open his +valise and sell you a ready-reckoner for six bits. He carried _Household +Compendiums of Useful Knowledge_ and _Medical Advisers_; he had poultry +guides and horse books, and books on bees, and if he couldn't sell you +one thing he would sell you another, unless you were a worm, or a +greased pig, and able, by some extraordinary natural or artificial +attribute, to slip out of his hands. + +As has been the case with many a greater man before him, Morgan's most +profitable business was done in his smallest article of trade. In the +country where men's lives were counted too short for all the work they +had to do, they didn't have any time for histories of the world and no +interest in them, anyhow. The world was to them no more than they could +see of it, and the needs of their lives and their longings--save in some +adventurer who developed among them now and then--went no farther than +the limit of their vision. + +The ready-reckoner was, therefore, the money-maker for Morgan, who +seemed to carry an inexhaustible supply. It told a farm-hand what his +pay amounted to by days and hours down to the fraction of a cent; it +told the farmer what the interest on his note would be; it showed how to +find out how many bushels of corn there were in a crib without measuring +the contents, and how many tons of hay a stack contained; it told how to +draw up a will and write a deed, and make liniment for the mumps. + +Isom drew all this information out of his guest at supper, and it did +not require much effort to set the sap flowing. + +Morgan talked to Isom and looked at Ollie; he asked Joe a question, and +cocked his eye on Ollie's face as if he expected to find the answer +there; he pronounced shallow platitudes of philosophy aiming them at +Isom, but looking at Ollie for approval or dissent. + +Isom appeared to take rather kindly to him, if his unusual volubility +indicated the state of his feelings. He asked Morgan a great deal about +his business, and how he liked it, and whether he made any money at it. +Morgan leaned back on the hinder legs of his chair, having finished his +supper, and fumbled in his waistcoat pocket for his goose-quill pick. He +winked at Isom on the footing of one shrewd man to another as he applied +the quill to his big white teeth. + +"Well, I pay my way," said he. + +There was a great deal back of the simple words; there was an oily +self-satisfaction, and there was a vast amount of portentous reserve. +Isom liked it; he nodded, a smile moving his beard. It did him good to +meet a man who could get behind the sham skin of the world, and take it +by the heels, and turn it a stunning fall. + +Next morning, the sun being out again and the roads promising to dry +speedily, Morgan hitched up and prepared to set out on his flaming path +of enlightenment. Before going he made a proposal to Isom to use that +place as headquarters for a week or two, while he covered the country +lying about. + +Anything that meant profit to Isom looked good and fitting in his eyes. +The feeding of another mouth would entail little expense, and so the +bargain was struck. Morgan was to have his breakfast and supper each +day, and provender for his horse, at the rate of four dollars a week, +payable in advance. + +Morgan ran over his compendiums and horse books, but Isom was firm for +cash; he suggested at least one ready-reckoner on account, but Isom had +no need of that. Isom could guess to a hundredweight the contents of a +stack of hay, and there never was a banker in this world that could +outfigure him on interest. He had no more need for a ready-reckoner than +a centipede has of legs. Morgan, seeing that nothing but money would +talk there, produced the week's charge on the spot, and drove off to his +day's canvassing well satisfied. + +Morgan had not been a paying guest in that house two days before the +somber domestic tragedy that it roofed was as plain to him as if he had +it printed and bound, and in his valise along with the compendiums of +his valuable assortment. + +He found it pleasant to return to the farm early of an afternoon and sit +in the kitchen door with his pipe, and watch Ollie's face clear of +clouds as he talked. Consolation and cheer were strangers to her heart; +it required no words from her to tell Morgan that. + +Her blushing gratitude for small offices of assistance, such as fetching +a pail of water or a basket of garden greens, repaid Morgan all that he +missed in sales by cutting short his business day just for the pleasure +of returning and talking with her. + +Isom was too self-centered, and unconscious of his wife's uncommon +prettiness, to be jealous or suspicious of Morgan's late goings or early +returns. If a man wanted to pay him four dollars a week for the pleasure +of carrying up water, cutting stove-wood or feeding the calves, the fool +was welcome to do it as long as his money held. + +So it was that old Isom, blind and deaf and money-mad, set with his own +hand and kindled with his own breath, the insidious spark which trustful +fools before his day have seen leap into flame and strip them of honor +before the eyes of men. + +Morgan made a long stay of it in that section, owing to the density of +the population, he claimed, and the proximity of several villages which +he could reach in a few miles' drive. He was in his third week when Isom +was summoned on jury service to the county seat. + +Twelve dollars had passed from the book agent's hands into Isom's, and +Isom grinned over it as the easiest money that it ever had been his +pleasure to collect. He put it away with his savings, which never had +earned interest for a banker, and turned the care of the farm over to +Joe. + +Jury service at the county seat was an uncertain thing. It might last a +day, and then it might tie a man up for two or three weeks, but Isom was +able to leave home with a more comfortable feeling than ever before. He +had a trustworthy servant to leave behind him, one in whose hands +everything would be safe, under whose energy and conscientious effort +nothing would drag or fall behind. + +Isom felt that he could very well afford to spread on a little +soft-soap, as flattery was provincially called, and invest Joe with a +greater sense of his responsibility, if possible. When occasion +required, Isom could rise to flattery as deftly as the best of them. It +was an art at which his tongue was wonderfully facile, considering the +fact that he mingled so seldom with men in the outside doings of life. +His wits had no foil to whet against and grow sharp, save the hard +substance of his own inflexible nature, for he was born with that shrewd +faculty for taking men "on the blind side," as they used to call that +trick in Missouri. + +"I'm turnin' the whole farm over to you to look after like it was your +own while I'm away," said he, "and I'm doing it with the feeling that +it's in worthy hands. I know you're not the boy to shirk on me when my +back's turned, for you never tried to do it to my face. You stand by me, +Joe, and I'll stand by you; you'll never lose anything by it in the +end. + +"I may be a crabbed old feller once in a while, and snarl around some, +but my bark's worse than my bite, you know that by this time. So I'll +put everything in your hands, with a feeling that it'll be looked after +just the same as if I was here." + +"I'll do the best I can by you," promised Joe, his generous heart +warming to Isom a little in spite of past indignities, and the fact that +Joe knew very well the old man's talk was artful pretense. + +"I know you will," said Isom, patting his shoulder in fatherly +approbation. "In case I'm held over there a week, you keep your eye on +that agent, and don't let him stay here a day overtime without another +week's board in advance." + +"I'll attend to him," promised Joe. + +Isom's hand had lingered a minute on Joe's shoulder while he talked, and +the old man's satisfaction over the depth of muscle that he felt beneath +it was great. He stood looking Joe over with quick-shifting, calculating +eyes, measuring him in every part, from flank to hock, like a farrier. +He was gratified to see how Joe had filled out in the past six months. +If he had paid for a colt and been delivered a draft-horse, his surprise +would not have been more pleasant. + +As it was, he had bargained for the services of a big-jointed, +long-boned lad, and found himself possessed of a man. The fine part of +it was that he had nearly two years more of service at ten dollars a +month coming from Joe, who was worth twenty of any man's money, and +could command it, just as he stood. That was business, that was +bargaining. + +Isom's starved soul distended over it; the feeling was warm in his +veins, like a gill of home-made brandy. He had him, bound body and limb, +tied in a corner from which he could not escape, to send and call, to +fetch and carry, for the better part of two good, profitable years. + +As Isom rode away he rubbed his dry, hard hands above his saddle-horn, +feeling more comfortable than he had felt for many a day. He gloated +over the excellent bargain that he had made with the Widow Newbolt; he +grinned at the roots of his old rusty beard. If ever a man poked himself +in the ribs in the excess of self-felicitation, Isom Chase did it as he +rode along on his old buckskin horse that autumn morning, with the sun +just lifting over the hill. + +It was an excellent thing, indeed, for a patriot to serve his country +once in a while on a jury, thought Isom, especially when that patriot +had been shrewd in his dealings with the widow and orphan, and had thus +secured himself against loss at home while his country called him +abroad. Jury duty was nothing but a pleasant season of relaxation in +such case. + +There would be mileage and _per diem_, and the state would bear the +expense of lodging and meals in the event of his being drawn out of the +panel to serve in some long criminal case. Mileage and _per diem_ would +come in very nicely, in addition to the four dollars a week that +loose-handed book agent was paying. For the first time in his life when +called upon for jury service, Isom went to meet it with no sourness in +his face. Mileage and _per diem_, but best of all, a great strong man +left at home in his place; one to be trusted in and depended upon; one +who would do both his master's work and his own. + +Joe had no such pleasant cogitations to occupy his mind as he bent his +long back to assume the double burden when Isom went away. For many days +he had been unquiet with a strange, indefinable unrest, like the yearn +of a wild-fowl when the season comes for it to wing away to southern +seas. Curtis Morgan was behind that strong, wild feeling; he was the +urge of it, and the fuel of its fire. + +Why it was so, Joe did not know, although he struggled in his reason to +make it clear. For many days, almost from the first, Joe had felt that +Morgan should not be in that house; that his pretext of lingering there +on business was a blind too thin to deceive anybody but Isom. Anybody +could deceive Isom if he would work his scheme behind a dollar. It was a +shield beyond which Isom could not see, and had no wish to inquire. + +Joe did not like those late starts which Morgan made of a morning, long +after he and Isom were in the field, nor the early homings, long before +they came in to do the chores. Joe left the house each morning with +reluctance, after Isom's departure, lingering over little things, +finding hitherto undiscovered tasks to keep him about in the presence of +Ollie, and to throw him between her and the talkative boarder, who +seemed always hanging at her heels. Since their talk at dinner on the +day that Morgan came, Joe had felt a new and deep interest in Ollie, and +held for her an unaccountable feeling of friendliness. + +This feeling had been fed, for a few days, by Ollie, who found odd +minutes to talk with him as she had not talked before, and by small +attentions and kindnesses. She had greeted him in the morning with +smiles, where her face once wore the sad mask of misery; and she had +touched his hand sometimes, with encouraging or commending caress. + +Joe had yielded to her immediately the unreserved loyalty of his +unsophisticated soul. The lot of his bondage was lightened by this new +tie, the prospect of the unserved term under Isom was not so forbidding +now. And now this fellow Morgan had stepped between them, in some manner +beyond his power to define. It was as one who beholds a shadow fall +across his threshold, which he can neither pick up nor cast away. + +Ollie had no more little attentions for Joe, but endless solicitude for +Morgan's comfort; no more full smiles for him, but only the reflections +of those which beamed for the chattering lounger who made a pretense of +selling books while he made love to another man's wife. + +It was this dim groping after the truth, and his half-conception of it, +that rendered Joe miserable. He did not fully understand what Morgan was +about, but it was plain to him that the man had no honest purpose there. +He could not repeat his fears to Isom, for Isom's wrath and correction +would fall on Ollie. Now he was left in charge of his master's house, +his lands, his livestock, and _his honor_. + +The vicarious responsibility rested on him with serious weight. Knowing +what he knew, and seeing what he saw, should he allow things to proceed +as they had been going? Would he be true to the trust that Isom had +placed in him with his parting word in standing aside and knowingly +permitting this man to slip in and poison the heart of Isom's wife? + +She was lonely and oppressed, and hungry for kind words, but it was not +this stranger's office to make green the barrenness of her life. He was +there, the bondboy, responsible to his master for his acts. She might +come to him for sympathy, and go away with honor. But with this other, +this man whose pale eyes shifted and darted like a botfly around a +horse's ear, could she drink his counsel and remain undefiled? + +Joe thought it up and down as he worked in the field near the house that +morning, and his face grew hot and his eyes grew fevered, and his +resentment against Morgan rose in his throat. + +He watched to see the man drive away on his canvassing round, but the +sun passed nine o'clock and he did not go. He had no right there, alone +in the house with that woman, putting, who could say, what evil into her +heart. + +Ten o'clock and the agent's buggy had not left the barn. Joe could +contain himself no longer. He was at work in a little stony piece of +late clover, so rough he did not like to risk the mower in it. For three +hours he had been laying the tumbled swaths in winding tracks across the +field, and he had a very good excuse for going to the well, indeed. +Coupled with that was the need of a whet-rock, and behind it all the +justification of his position. He was there in his master's place; he +must watch and guard the honor of his house. + +Joe could not set out on that little trip without a good deal of moral +cudgeling when it came to the point, although he threw down his scythe +with a muttered curse on his lips for the man who was playing such an +underhanded game. + +It was on Ollie's account he hesitated. Ollie would think that he +suspected her, when there was nothing farther from his mind. It was +Morgan who would set the snare for her to trip into, and it was Morgan +that he was going to send about his business. But Ollie might take +offense and turn against him, and make it as unpleasant as she had shown +that she could make it agreeable. + +But duty was stronger than friendship. It was stern and implacable, and +there was no pleasant road to take around it and come out with honor at +the other end. + +Joe made as much noise as he could with his big feet--and that was no +inconsiderable amount--as he approached the house. But near the building +the grass was long, and soft underfoot, and it bore Joe around to the +kitchen window silently. His lips were too dry to whistle; his heart was +going too fast to carry a tune. + +He paused a little way beyond the window, which stood open with the sun +falling through it, listening for the sound of their voices. It was +strangely silent for a time when the book-agent was around. + +Joe went on, his shadow breaking the sunbeam which whitened the kitchen +floor. There was a little quick start as he came suddenly to the kitchen +door; a hurried stir of feet. As he stepped upon the porch he saw Morgan +in the door, Ollie not a yard behind him, their hands just breaking +their clasp. Joe knew in his heart that Morgan had been holding her in +his arms. + +Ollie's face was flushed, her hair was disturbed. Her bosom rose and +fell like troubled water, her eyes were brighter than Joe ever had seen +them. Even Morgan was different, sophisticated and brazen that he was. A +flash of red showed on his cheekbones and under his eyes; his thin +nostrils were panting like gills. + +Joe stood there, one foot on the porch, the other on the ground, as +blunt as honesty, as severe as honor. There was nothing in his face that +either of them could read to indicate what was surging in his breast. He +had caught them, and they wondered if he had sense enough to know. + +Joe pushed his hat back from his sweating forehead and looked +inquiringly at Morgan. + +"Your horse sick, or something?" he asked. + +"No," said Morgan, turning his back on Joe with a little jerk of +contempt in his shoulders. + +"Well, I think he must be down, or something," said Joe, "for I heard a +racket in the barn." + +"Why didn't you go and see what was the matter?" demanded Morgan +crossly, snatching his hat from the table. + +Ollie was drowned in a confusion of blushes. She stood hanging her head, +but Joe saw the quick turn of her eyes to follow Morgan as he went away +in long strides toward the barn. + +Joe went to the tool-chest which stood in a corner of the kitchen and +busied himself clattering over its contents. Presently he looked at +Ollie, his hand on the open lid of the box. + +"Did you see that long whetstone lying around anywhere, Ollie?" he +asked. + +She lifted her head with a little start. Joe never had called her +familiarly by her name before. It always had been "Missis Chase," +distant and respectful. + +"No, I haven't seen it, Joe," she answered, the color leaving her +cheeks. + +"All right, Ollie," said he, holding her eyes with steady gaze, until +she shifted hers under the pain of it, and the questioning reproach. + +Joe slammed down the lid of the tool-chest, as if with the intention of +making as much noise as possible. + +There was something in the way he had spoken her name that was stranger +than the circumstance itself. Perhaps she felt the authority and the +protection which Joe meant that his voice should assume; perhaps she +understood that it was the word of a man. She was afraid of him at that +moment, as she never had been afraid of Isom in all their married life. + +"I suppose Isom put it away somewhere around the barn," said Joe. + +"Maybe he did, Joe." + +"I'll go down there and see if I can find it," he said. + +Ollie knew, as well as Joe himself, that he was making the whetstone the +vehicle to carry his excuse for watching Morgan away from the farm, but +she was not certain whether this sudden shrewdness was the deep +understanding of a man, or the domineering spirit of a crude lad, +jealous of his passing authority. + +The uncertainty troubled her. She watched him from the door and saw him +approach Morgan, where he was backing his horse into the shafts. + +"All right, is he?" asked Joe, stopping a moment. + +Morgan was distant. + +"I guess he'll live another day, don't worry about him," said he, in +surly voice. + +"What time do you aim to be back today?" pursued Joe, entirely unmoved +by Morgan's show of temper. + +"Say, I'll set up a bulletin board with my time-table on it if you've +got to have it, Mr. Overseer!" said Morgan, looking up from the buckling +of a shaft-strap, his face coloring in anger. + +"Well, you don't need to get huffy over it." + +"Mind your business then," Morgan growled. + +He didn't wait to discuss the matter farther, but got into the buggy +without favoring Joe with as much as another glance, gave his horse a +vindictive lash with the whip and drove off, leaving the gate open +behind him. + +Joe shut it, and turned back to his mowing. + +Many a time he paused that morning in his labor, leaning on the snath of +his scythe, in a manner of abstraction and seeming indolence altogether +strange to him. There was a scene, framed by the brown casing of the +kitchen door, with two figures in it, two clinging hands, which +persisted in its disturbing recurrence in his troubled mind. + +Ollie was on dangerous ground. How far she had advanced, he did not +know, but not yet, he believed, to the place where the foulness of +Morgan had defiled her beyond cleansing. It was his duty as the guardian +of his master's house to watch her, even to warn her, and to stop her +before she went too far. + +Once he put down his scythe and started to go to the house, his mind +full of what he felt it his duty to say. + +Then there rose up that feeling of disparity between matron and youth +which had held him at a distance from Ollie before. He turned back to +his work with a blush upon his sun-scorched face, and felt ashamed. But +it was not a thing to be deferred until after the damage had been done. +He must speak to her that day, perhaps when he should go in for dinner. +So he said. + +Ollie seemed self-contained and uncommunicative at dinner. Joe thought +she was a little out of humor, or that she was falling back into her old +gloomy way, from which she had emerged, all smiles and dimples, like a +new and youthful creature, on the coming of Morgan. He thought, too, +that this might be her way of showing her resentment of the familiarity +that he had taken in calling her by her name. + +The feeling of deputy-mastership was no longer important upon his +shoulders. He shrank down in his chair with a sense of drawing in, like +a snail, while he burned with humiliation and shame. The pinnacle of +manhood was too slippery for his clumsy feet; he had plumped down from +its altitudes as swiftly as he had mounted that morning under the spur +of duty. He was a boy, and felt that he was a boy, and far, far from +being anything nobler, or stronger, or better qualified to give saving +counsel to a woman older, if not wiser, than himself. + +Perhaps it was Ollie's purpose to inspire such feeling, and to hold Joe +in his place. She was neither so dull, nor so unpractised in the arts of +coquetry, to make such a supposition improbable. + +It was only when Joe sighted Morgan driving back to the farm late in the +afternoon that his feeling of authority asserted itself again, and +lifted him up to the task before him. He must let her understand that he +knew of what was going on between them. A few words would suffice, and +they must be spoken before Morgan entered the house again to pour his +poison into her ears. + +Ollie was churning that afternoon, standing at her task close by the +open door. Joe came past the window, as he had crossed it that morning, +his purpose hot upon him, his long legs measuring the ground in immense, +swift steps. He carried his hat in his hand, for the day was one of +those with the pepper of autumn in it which puts the red in the apple's +cheeks. + +Ollie heard him approaching; her bare arm stayed the stroke of the +churn-dasher as she looked up. Her face was bright, a smile was in her +eyes, revealing the clear depths of them, and the life and the desires +that issued out of them, like the waters of a spring in the sun. She was +moist and radiant in the sweat of her labor, and clean and fresh and +sweet to see. + +Her dress was parted back from her bosom to bare it to the refreshment +of the breeze, and her skin was as white as the cream on the dasher, and +the crimson of her cheeks blended down upon her neck, as if the moisture +of her brow had diffused its richness, and spread its beauty there. + +She looked at Joe, halted suddenly like a post set upright in the +ground, stunned by the revelation of the plastic beauty of neck and bare +bosom, and, as their eyes met, she smiled, lifted one white arm and +pushed back a straying lock of hair. + +Joe's tongue lay cold, and numb as wood against his palate; no word +would come to it; it would not move. The wonder of a new beauty in God's +created things was deep upon him; a warm fountain rose in him and played +and tossed, with a new and pleasurable thrill. He saw and admired, but +he was not ashamed. + +All that he had come to say to her was forgotten, all that he had framed +to speak as he bore hastily on toward the house had evaporated from his +heated brain. A new world turned its bright colors before his eyes, a +new breadth of life had been revealed, it seemed to him. In the pleasure +of his discovery he stood with no power in him but to tremble and +stare. + +The flush deepened in Ollie's cheeks. She understood what was moving in +his breast, for it is given to her kind to know man before he knows +himself. She feigned surprise to behold him thus stricken, staring and +silent, his face scarlet with the surge of his hot blood. + +With one slow-lifted hand she gathered the edges of her dress together, +withdrawing the revealed secret of her breast. + +"Why, Joe! What are you looking at?" she asked. + +"You," he answered, his voice dry and hoarse, like that of one who asks +for water at the end of a race. He turned away from her then, saying no +more, and passed quickly out of her sight beyond the shrubbery which +shouldered the kitchen wall. + +Slowly Ollie lifted the dasher which had settled to the bottom of the +churn, and a smile broke upon her lips. As she went on with the +completion of her task, she smiled still, with lips, with eyes, with +warm exultation of her strong young body, as over a triumphant ending of +some issue long at balance and undefined. + +Joe went away from the kitchen door in a strange daze of faculties. For +that new feeling which leaped in him and warmed him to the core, and +gave him confidence in his strength never before enjoyed, and an +understanding of things hitherto unrevealed, he was glad. But at heart +he felt that he was a traitor to the trust imposed in him, and that he +had violated the sanctity of his master's home. + +Now he knew what it was that had made his cheeks flame in anger and his +blood leap in resentment when he saw Ollie in the door that morning, all +flushed and trembling from Morgan's arms; now he understood why he had +lingered to interpose between them in past days. It was the wild, deep +fear of jealousy. He was in love with his master's wife! What had been +given him to guard, he had looked upon with unholy hunger; that which +had been left with him to treasure, he had defiled with lustful eyes. + +Joe struck across the fields, his work forgotten, now hot with the +mounting fires of his newly discovered passion, now cold with the +swelling accusation of a trust betrayed. Jealousy, and not a regard for +his master's honor, had prompted him to put her on her guard against +Morgan. He had himself coveted his neighbor's wife. He had looked upon a +woman to lust after her, he had committed adultery in his heart. Between +him and Morgan there was no redeeming difference. One was as bad as the +other, said Joe. Only this difference; he would stop there, in time, +ashamed now of the offending of his eyes and the trespass of his heart. +Ollie did not know. He had not wormed his way into her heart by pitying +her unhappiness, like the false guest who had emptied his lies into her +ears. + +Joe was able to see now how little deserving Isom was of any such +blessing as Ollie, how ill-assorted they were by nature, inclination and +age. But God had joined them, for what pains and penances He alone knew, +and it was not the work of any man to put them apart. + +At the edge of a hazel coppice, far away from the farmhouse that +sheltered the object of his tender thoughts and furtive desires, Joe sat +among the first fallen leaves of autumn, fighting to clear himself from +the perplexities of that disquieting situation. In the agony of his +aching conscience, he bowed his head and groaned. + +A man's burden of honor had fallen upon him with the disclosure of a +man's desires. His boyhood seemed suddenly to have gone from him like +the light of a lamp blown out by a puff of wind. He felt old, and +responsible to answer now for himself, since the enormity of his offense +was plain to his smarting conscience. + +And he was man enough to look after Morgan, too. He would proceed to +deal with Morgan on a new basis, himself out of the calculation +entirely. Ollie must be protected against his deceitful wiles, and +against herself as well. + +Joe trembled in his newer and clearer understanding of the danger that +threatened her as he hastened back to the barn-yard to take up his +neglected chores. The thought that Morgan and Ollie were alone in the +house almost threw him into a fever of panic and haste. + +He must not be guilty of such an oversight again; he must stand like a +stern wall between them, and be able to account for his trust to Isom +with unclouded heart. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE SECRET OF THE CLOVER + + +Until the time he had entered Isom Chase's house, temptation never had +come near Joe Newbolt. He never had kissed a maiden; he never had felt +the quickening elixir of a soft breast pressed against his own. And so +it fell that the sudden conception of what he had unwittingly come to, +bore on him with a weight which his sensitive and upright mind magnified +into an enormous and crushing shame. While his intention could bear +arraignment and come away with acquittal, the fact that he had been +perverted enough in the grain, as he looked at it, to drift unknowingly +into love with another man's wife, galled him until his spirit groaned. + +Isom did not return that evening; the conclusion of his household was +that he had been chosen on a jury. They discussed it at supper, Ollie +nervously gay, Morgan full of raucous laughter, Joe sober and grudging +of his words. + +Joe never had borne much of a hand at the table-talk since Morgan came, +and before his advent there was none to speak of, so his taciturnity +that evening passed without a second thought in the minds of Ollie and +her guest. They had words enough for a house full of people, thought +Joe, as he saw that for every word from the lips they sent two speeding +from their eyes. That had become a language to which he had found the +Rosetta Stone; it was as plain to him now as Roman text. + +Perhaps Morgan regarded her with an affection as sincere as his own. He +did not know; but he felt that it could not be as blameless, for if Joe +had desired her in the uninterpreted passion of his full young heart, he +had brought himself up to sudden judgment before the tribunal of his +conscience. It would go no farther. He had put his moral foot down and +smothered his unholy desire, as he would have stamped out a flame. + +It seemed to Joe that there was something in Morgan's eyes which +betrayed his heart. Little gleams of his underlying purpose which his +levity masked, struck Joe from time to time, setting his wits on guard. +Morgan must be watched, like a cat within leaping distance of an +unfledged bird. Joe set himself the task of watching, determined then +and there that Morgan should not have one dangerous hour alone with +Ollie again until Isom came back and lifted the responsibility of his +wife's safety from his shoulders. + +For a while after supper that night Joe sat on the bench beside the +kitchen door, the grape-vine rustling over his head, watching Ollie as +she went to and fro about her work of clearing away. Morgan was in the +door, his back against the jamb, leisurely smoking his pipe. Once in a +while a snoring beetle passed in above his head to join his fellows +around the lamp. As each recruit to the blundering company arrived, +Morgan slapped at him as he passed, making Ollie laugh. On the low, +splotched ceiling of the kitchen the flies shifted and buzzed, changing +drowsily from place to place. + +"Isom ought to put screens on the windows and doors," said Morgan, +looking up at the flies. + +"Mosquito bar, you mean?" asked Ollie, throwing him a smile over her +shoulder as she passed. + +"No, I mean wire-screens, everybody's gettin' 'em in now; I've been +thinkin' of takin' 'em on as a side-line." + +"It'll be a cold day in July when Isom spends any money just to keep +_flies_ out of his house!" said she. + +Morgan laughed. + +"Maybe if a person could show him that they eat up a lot of stuff he'd +come around to it," Morgan said. + +"Maybe," said Ollie, and both of them had their laugh again. + +Joe moved on the bench, making it creak, an uneasy feeling coming over +him. Close as Isom was, and hard-handed and mean, Joe felt that there +was a certain indelicacy in his wife's discussion of his traits with a +stranger. + +Ollie had cleared away the dishes, washed them and placed them in the +cupboard, on top of which the one clock of that household stood, +scar-faced, but hoarse-voiced when it struck, and strong as the +challenge of an old cock. Already it had struck nine, for they had been +late in coming to supper, owing to Joe's long set-to with his conscience +at the edge of the hazel-copse in the woods. + +Joe got up, stretching his arms, yawning. + +"Goin' to bed, heh?" asked Morgan. + +"No, I don't seem to feel sleepy tonight," Joe replied. + +He went into the kitchen and sat at the table, his elbows on the board, +his head in his hands, as if turning over some difficult problem in his +mind. Presently he fell to raking his shaggy hair with his long fingers; +in a moment it was as disorderly as the swaths of clover hay lying out +in the moonlight in the little stone-set field. + +Morgan had filled his pipe, and was after a match at the box behind the +stove, with the familiarity of a household inmate. He winked at Ollie, +who was then pulling down her sleeves, her long day's work being done. + +"Well, do you think you'll be elected?" he asked, lounging across to +Joe, his hands in his pockets. + +Morgan wore a shirt as gay-striped as a Persian tent, and he had removed +his coat so the world, or such of it as was present in the kitchen, +might behold it and admire. Joe withdrew his hands from his forelock and +looked at Morgan curiously. The lad's eyes were sleep-heavy and red, and +he was almost as dull-looking, perhaps, as Morgan imagined him to be. + +"What did you say?" he asked. + +"I asked you if you thought you'd be elected this fall," repeated +Morgan, in mock seriousness. + +"I don't know what you mean," said Joe, turning from him indifferently. + +"Why, ain't you runnin' for President on the squash-vine ticket?" asked +Morgan. "I heard you was the can'idate." + +Joe got up from the table and moved his chair away with his foot. As he +was thus occupied he saw Ollie's shadow on the wall repeat a gesture of +caution which she made to Morgan, a lifting of the hand, a shaking of +the head. Even the shadow betrayed the intimate understanding between +them. Joe went over and stood in the door. + +"No use for you to try to be a fool, Morgan; that's been attended to for +you already," said he. + +There wasn't much heart in Morgan's laugh, but it would pass for one on +account of the volume of sound. + +"Oh, let a feller have his joke, won't you, Joe?" said he. + +"Go ahead," granted Joe, leaning his shoulder against the jamb, facing +out toward the dark. + +Morgan went over and put his hand on the great lad's shoulder, with a +show of friendly condescension. + +"What would the world be without its jokes?" he asked. And then, before +anybody could answer: "It'd be like home without a mother." + +Joe faced him, a slow grin spreading back to his ears. + +"Or a ready-reckoner," said he. + +Morgan's laugh that time was unfeigned. + +"Joe, you've missed your callin'," said he. "You've got no business +foolin' away your time on a farm. With that solemn, long-hungry look of +yours you ought to be sellin' consumption cure and ringbone ointment +from the end of a wagon on the square in Kansas City." + +"Or books, maybe," suggested Joe. + +"No-o-o," said Morgan thoughtfully, "I wouldn't just say you're up to +the level of books. But you might rise even to books if you'd cultivate +your mind and brain. Well, I think I'll fly up to roost. I've got to +take an early start in the morning and clean up on this neck of the +woods tomorrow. Good night, folks." + +"I don't suppose Isom'll be home tonight," Ollie ventured, as Morgan's +feet sounded on the stairs. + +"No, I guess not," Joe agreed, staring thoughtfully at the black oblong +of the door. + +"If he does come, I don't suppose it'll hurt him to eat something cold," +she said. + +"I'll wait up a while longer. If he comes I can warm up the coffee for +him," Joe offered. + +"Then I'll go to bed, too," she yawned wearily. + +"Yes, you'd better go," said he. + +Ollie's room, which was Isom's also when he was there, was in the front +of the house, upstairs. Joe heard her feet along the hall, and her door +close after her. Morgan was still tramping about in the room next to +Joe's, where he slept. It was the best room in the house, better than +the one shared by Isom and his wife, and in the end of the house +opposite to it. Joe sat quietly at the table until Morgan's complaining +bed-springs told him that the guest had retired. Then he mounted the +narrow kitchen stairs to his own chamber. + +Joe sat on the edge of his bed and pulled off his boots, dropping them +noisily on the floor. Then, with shirt and trousers on, he drew the +quilt from his bed, took his pillow under his arm, and opened the door +into the hall which divided the house from end to end. + +The moon was shining in through the double window in the end toward +Ollie's room; it lay on the white floor, almost as bright as the sun. +Within five feet of that splash of moonlight Joe spread his quilt. There +he set his pillow and stretched his long body diagonally across the +narrow hall, blocking it like a gate. + +Joe roused Morgan next morning at dawn, and busied himself with making a +fire in the kitchen stove and bringing water from the well until the +guest came down to feed his horse. Morgan was in a crusty humor. He had +very little to say, and Joe did not feel that the world was any poorer +for his silence. + +"This will be my last meal with you," announced Morgan at breakfast. +"I'll not be back tonight." + +Ollie was paler than usual, Joe noticed, and a cloud of dejection seemed +to have settled over her during the night. She did not appear to be +greatly interested in Morgan's statement, although she looked up from +her breakfast with a little show of friendly politeness. Joe thought +that she did not seem to care for the agent; the tightness in his breast +was suddenly and gratefully eased. + +"You haven't finished out your week, there'll be something coming to you +on what you've paid in advance," said she. + +"Let that go," said Morgan, obliterating all claim with a sweep of his +hand. + +"I think you'd better take back what's coming to you," suggested Joe. + +Morgan turned to him with stiff severity. + +"Are you the watch-dog of the old man's treasury?" he sneered. + +"Maybe I am, for a day or two," returned Joe, "and if you step on me +I'll bite." + +He leveled his steady gray eyes at Morgan's shifting orbs, and held them +there as if to drive in some hidden import of his words. Morgan seemed +to understand. He colored, laughed shortly, and busied himself buttering +a griddle-cake. + +Ollie, pale and silent, had not looked up during this by-passage between +the two men. Her manner was of one who expected something, which she +dreaded and feared to face. + +Morgan took the road early. Joe saw him go with a feeling of relief. He +felt like a swollen barrel which had burst its close-binding hoops, he +thought, as he went back to the place where he dropped his scythe +yesterday. + +As he worked through the long morning hours Joe struggled to adjust +himself to the new conditions, resulting from the discovery of his own +enlargement and understanding. It would be a harder matter now to go on +living there with Ollie. Each day would be a trial by fire, the weeks +and months a lengthening highway strewn with the embers of his own +smoldering passion. Something might happen, almost any day, youth and +youth together, galled by the same hand of oppression, that would +overturn his peace forever. Yet, he could not leave. The bond of his +mother's making, stamped with the seal of the law, held him captive +there. + +At length, after spending a harrowing morning over it, he reached the +determination to stand up to it like a man, and serve Isom as long as he +could do so without treason. When the day came that his spirit weakened +and his continence failed, he would throw down the burden and desert. +That he would do, even though his mother's hopes must fall and his own +dreams of redeeming the place of his birth, to which he was attached by +a sentiment almost poetic, must dissolve like vapor in the sun. + +It was mid-afternoon when Joe finished his mowing and stood casting his +eyes up to the sky for signs of rain. There being none, he concluded +that it would be safe to allow yesterday's cutting to lie another night +in the field while he put in the remainder of the day with his scythe in +the lower orchard plot, where the clover grew rank among the trees. + +Satisfied that he had made a showing thus far with which Isom could find +no fault, Joe tucked the snath of his scythe under his arm and set out +for that part of the orchard which lay beyond the hill, out of sight of +the barn and house, and from that reason called the "lower orchard" by +Isom, who had planted it with his own hand more than thirty years ago. + +There noble wine-sap stretched out mighty arms to fondle willow-twig +across the shady aisles, and maidenblush rubbed cheeks with Spitzenberg, +all reddening in the sun. Under many of the trees the ground was as bare +as if fire had devastated it, for the sun never fell through those +close-woven branches from May to October, and there no clover grew. But +in the open spaces between the rows it sprang rank and tall, troublesome +to cut with a mower because of the low-swinging, fruit-weighted limbs. + +Joe waded into this paradise of fruit and clover bloom, dark leaf and +straining bough, stooping now and then to pick up a fallen apple and try +its mellowness with his thumb. They were all hard, and fit only for +cider yet, but their rich colors beguiled the eye into betrayal of the +palate. Joe fixed his choice upon a golden willow-twig. As he stood +rubbing the apple on his sleeve, his eye running over the task ahead of +him in a rough estimate of the time it would require to clean up the +clover, he started at sight of a white object dangling from a bough a +few rods ahead of him. His attention curiously held, he went forward to +investigate, when a little start of wind swung the object out from the +limb and he saw that it was a woman's sun-bonnet, hanging basket-wise by +its broad strings. There was no question whose it was; he had seen the +same bonnet hanging in the kitchen not three hours before, fresh from +the ironing board. + +Joe dropped his apple unbitten, and strode forward, puzzled a bit over +the circumstance. He wondered what had brought Ollie down there, and +where she was then. She never came to that part of the orchard to gather +wind-falls for the pigs--she was not gathering them at all during Isom's +absence, he had relieved her of that--and there was nothing else to call +her away from the house at that time of the day. + +The lush clover struck him mid-thigh, progress through it was difficult. +Joe lifted his feet like an Indian, toes turned in a bit, and this +method of walking made it appear as if he stalked something, for he +moved without noise. + +He had dropped his scythe with the apple, his eyes held Ollie's swinging +bonnet as he approached it as if it were some rare bird which he hoped +to steal upon and take. Thus coming on, with high-lifted feet, his +breath short from excitement, Joe was within ten yards of the bonnet +when a voice sounded behind the intervening screen of clover and +boughs. + +Joe dropped in his tracks, as if ham-strung, crouched in the clover, +pressed his hands to his mouth to stifle the groan that rose to his +lips. It was Morgan's voice. He had come sneaking back while the +watch-dog was off guard, secure in the belief that he had gone away. As +Joe crouched there hidden in the clover, trembling and cold with anger, +Morgan's voice rose in a laugh. + +"Well, I wouldn't have given him credit for that much sense if I hadn't +seen him with my own eyes," said he. + +"He's smarter than he looks," said Ollie, their voices distinct in Joe's +shamed ears, for it was as quiet in the orchard as on the first day. + +They both laughed over what she said. + +"He thinks I'm gone, he'll go to bed early tonight," said Morgan. "Don't +bother about bringing anything with you." + +"Not even my diamonds?" she laughed. + +Morgan's gruffer mirth joined her, and Joe found himself straining to +hear, although he despised himself for spying and eavesdropping, even on +guilt. + +"We can get on without the diamonds," said Morgan, "and I don't suppose +you've got any ball dresses or sealskin cloaks?" + +"Three calico wrappers that he's bought me, and a dress or two that I +had when I came," said Ollie, bitterly. + +"You'll have all you want in a day or two, honey," said Morgan, in +comforting voice. + +They were silent a while; then Joe heard her ask the time. Morgan told +her it was half-past four. + +"Oh, I had no idea it was that late--time goes so fast when I'm with +you! I must go back to the house now, Joe might come in and find me +gone." + +"Yes, I'd like to wring his damned neck!" said Morgan. + +"He's a good boy, Curtis," she defended, but with lightness, "but he's a +little----" + +She held her words back coquettishly. + +"Heh?" queried Morgan. + +"Jealous, you old goose! Can't you see it?" + +Morgan had a great laugh over that. From the sound of his voice Joe knew +that he was standing, and his whole body ached with the fear that they +would discover him lying there in the clover. Not that he was afraid of +Morgan, but that he dreaded the humiliation which Ollie must suffer in +knowing that her guilty tryst had been discovered. + +"I'll meet you at the gate, I'll have the buggy on down the road a +little ways," Morgan told her. "There's only a little while between you +and liberty now, sweetheart." + +Joe dared not look up nor move, but he needed no eyes to know that +Morgan kissed her then. After that he heard her running away toward the +house. Morgan stood there a little while, whistling softly. Soon Joe +heard him going in the direction of the road. + +Morgan was quite a distance ahead when Joe sprang out of his concealment +and followed him, for he wanted to give Ollie time to pass beyond +ear-shot of the orchard. As Joe made no attempt to smother the sound of +his feet, Morgan heard him while he was still several yards behind him. +He turned, stopped, and waited for Joe to come up. + +Joe's agitation was plain in his face, his shocked eyes stared out of +its pallor as if they had looked upon violence and death. + +"What's the matter, kid?" inquired Morgan carelessly. + +"I've got something to say to you," answered Joe thickly. He was +panting, more from rage than exertion; his hands trembled. + +Morgan looked him over from boots to bandless hat with the same evidence +of curiosity as a person displays when turning some washed-up object +with the foot on the sands. It was as if he had but an abstract interest +in the youth, a feeling which the incident had obtruded upon him without +penetrating the reserve of his private cogitations. + +"Kid, you look like you'd seen a snake," said he. + +"You let that woman alone--you've got to let her alone, I tell you!" +said Joe with explosive suddenness, his passion out of hand. + +Morgan's face grew red. + +"Mind your own business, you sneakin' skunk!" said he. + +"I am minding it," said Joe; "but maybe not as well as I ought to 'a' +done. Isom left me here in his place to watch and look after things, but +you've sneaked in under my arm like a dirty, thieving dog, and +you've--you've----" + +Morgan thrust his fist before Joe's face. + +"That'll do now--that'll do out of you!" he threatened. + +Joe caught Morgan's wrist with a quick, snapping movement, and slowly +bent the threatening arm down, Morgan struggling, foot to foot with him +in the test of strength. Joe held the captured arm down for a moment, +and they stood breast to breast, glaring into each other's eyes. Then +with a wrench that spun Morgan half round and made him stagger, Joe +flung his arm free. + +"Now, you keep away from here--keep away!" he warned, his voice growing +thin and boyish in the height of his emotion, as if it would break in +the treble shallows. + +"Don't fool with me or I'll hurt you," said Morgan. "Keep your +nose----" + +"Let her alone!" commanded Joe sternly, his voice sinking again even +below its accustomed level, gruff and deep in his chest. "I heard you--I +didn't mean to, but I couldn't help it--and I know what you're up to +tonight. Don't come around here tonight after her, for I'm not going to +let her go." + +"Ya-a, you pup, you pup!" said Morgan nastily. + +"It's a hard life for her here--I know that better than you do," said +Joe, passing over the insult, "but you can't give her any better--not as +good. What you've done can't be undone now, but I can keep you from +dragging her down any further. Don't you come back here tonight!" + +"If you keep your fingers out of the fire," said Morgan, looking at the +ground, rolling a fallen apple with his toe, "you'll not get scorched. +You stick to your knittin' and don't meddle with mine. That'll be about +the healthiest thing you can do!" + +"If Isom knew what you've done he'd kill you--if he's even half a man," +said Joe. "She was a good woman till you came, you hound!" + +"She's a good woman yet," said Morgan, with some feeling, "too good for +that old hell-dog she's married to!" + +"Then let her stay good--at least as good as she is," advised Joe. + +"Oh, hell!" said Morgan disgustedly. + +"You can't have her," persisted Joe. + +"We'll see about that, too," said Morgan, his manner and voice +threatening. "What're you goin' to do--pole off and tell the old man?" + +"I'll do what Isom left me here to do, the rest of the time he's away," +said Joe. "Ollie shan't leave the house tonight." + +"Yes, you flat-bellied shad, you want her yourself--you're stuck on her +yourself, you fool! Yes, and you've got just about as much show of +gittin' her as I have of jumpin' over that tree!" derided Morgan. + +"No matter what I think of her, good or bad, she'd be safe with me," Joe +told him, searching his face accusingly. + +"Yes, of course she would!" scoffed Morgan. "You're one of these saints +that'll live all your life by a punkin and never poke it with your +finger. Oh, yes, I know your kind!" + +"I'm not going to quarrel with you, Morgan, unless you make me," said +Joe; "but you've got the wrong end of the stick. I don't want her, not +the way you do, anyhow." + +Morgan looked at him closely, then put out his hand with a gesture of +conciliation. + +"I'll take that back, Joe," said he. "You're not that kind of a kid. You +mean well, but you don't understand. Look-a here, let me tell you, Joe: +I love that little woman, kid, just as honest and true as any man could +love her, and she thinks the world and all of me. I only want to take +her away from here because I love her and want to make her happy. Don't +you see it, kid?" + +"How would you do that? You couldn't marry her." + +"Not for a while, of course," admitted Morgan. "But the old possum he'd +get a divorce in a little while." + +"Well, I'm not going to let her go," Joe declared, turning away as if +that settled the matter for good and all. "You've done--I could kill you +for what you've done!" said he, with sudden vehemence. + +Morgan looked at him curiously, his careless face softening. + +"Now, see here, don't you look at it that way, Joe," he argued. "I'm not +so bad; neither is Ollie. You'll understand these matters better when +you're older and know more about the way men feel. She wanted love, and +I gave her love. She's been worked to rags and bones by that old devil; +and what I've done, and what I want to do, is in kindness, Joe. I'll +take her away from here and provide for her like she was a queen, I'll +give her the love and comradeship of a young man and make her happy, +Joe. Don't you see?" + +"But you can't make her respectable," said Joe. "I'm not going to let +her leave with you, or go to you. If she wants to go after Isom comes +back, then let her. But not before. Now, you'd better go on away, +Morgan, before I lose my temper. I was mad when I started after you, but +I've cooled down. Don't roil me up again. Go on your way, and leave that +woman alone." + +"Joe, you're a man in everything but sense," said Morgan, not unkindly, +"and I reckon if you and I was to clinch we'd raise a purty big dust and +muss things around a right smart. And I don't know who'd come out on top +at the finish, neither. So I don't want to have any trouble with you. +All I ask of you is step to one side and leave us two alone in what +we've started to do and got all planned to carry out. Go to bed tonight +and go to sleep. You're not supposed to know that anything's due to +happen, and if you sleep sound you'll find a twenty-dollar bill under +your hat in the morning." + +The suggestion brought a blush to Joe's face. He set his lips as if +fighting down hot words before he spoke. + +"If I have to tie her I'll do it," said Joe earnestly. "She shan't +leave. And if I have to take down that old gun from the kitchen wall to +keep you away from here till Isom comes home, I'll take it down. You can +come to the gate tonight if you want to, but if you do----" + +Joe looked him straight in the eyes. Morgan's face lost its color. He +turned as if to see that his horse was still standing, and stood that +way a little while. + +"I guess I'll drive on off, Joe," said Morgan with a sigh, as if he had +reached the conclusion after a long consideration. + +"All right," said Joe. + +"No hard feelin's left behind me?" facing Joe again with his old, +self-assured smile. He offered his hand, but Joe did not take it. + +"As long as you never come back," said Joe. + +Morgan walked to the fence, his head bent, thoughtfully. Joe followed, +as if to satisfy himself that the wily agent was not going to work some +subterfuge, having small faith in his promise to leave, much less in the +probability that he would stay away. + +Joe stood at the fence, looking after Morgan, long after the dust of his +wheels had settled again to the road. At last he went back to the place +where he had dropped his scythe, and cut a swath straight through to the +tree where Ollie's bonnet had hung. And there he mowed the trampled +clover, and obliterated her footprints with his own. + +The weight of his discovery was like some dead thing on his breast. He +felt that Ollie had fallen from the high heaven of his regard, never to +mount to her place again. But Isom did not know of this bitter thing, +this shameful shadow at his door. As far as it rested with him to hold +the secret in his heart, poison though it was to him, Isom should never +know. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +BLOOD + + +Joe had debated the matter fully in his mind before going in to supper. +Since he had sent her tempter away, there was no necessity of taking +Ollie to task, thus laying bare his knowledge of her guilty secret. He +believed that her conscience would prove its own flagellant in the days +to come, when she had time to reflect and repent, away from the +debauching influence of the man who had led her astray. His blame was +all for Morgan, who had taken advantage of her loneliness and +discontent. + +Joe now recalled, and understood, her reaching out to him for sympathy; +he saw clearly that she had demanded something beyond the capacity of +his unseasoned heart to give. Isom was to blame for that condition of +her mind, first and most severely of all. If Isom had been kind to her, +and given her only a small measure of human sympathy, she would have +clung to him, and rested in the shelter of his protection, content +against all the world. Isom had spread the thorns for his own feet, in +his insensibility to all human need of gentleness. + +Joe even doubted, knowing him as he did, whether the gray old miser was +capable of either jealousy or shame. He did not know, indeed, what Isom +might say to it if his wife's infidelity became known to him, but he +believed that he would rage to insanity. Perhaps not because the sting +of it would penetrate to his heart, but in his censure of his wife's +extravagance in giving away an affection which belonged, under the form +of marriage and law, to him. + +Joe was ashamed to meet Ollie at the table, not for himself, but for +her. He was afraid that his eyes, or his manner, might betray what he +knew. He might have spared himself this feeling of humiliation on her +account, for Ollie, all unconscious of his discovery, was bright and +full of smiles. Joe could not rise to her level of light-heartedness, +and, there being no common ground between them, he lapsed into his +old-time silence over his plate. + +After supper Joe flattened himself against the kitchen wall where he had +sat the night before on the bench outside the door, drawing back into +the shadow. There he sat and thought it over again, unsatisfied to +remain silent, yet afraid to speak. He did not want to be unjust, for +perhaps she did not intend to meet Morgan at all. In addition to this +doubt of her intentions, he had the hope that Isom would come very soon. +He decided at length that he would go to bed and lie awake until he +heard Ollie pass up to her room, when he would slip down again and wait. +If she came down, he would know that she intended to carry out her part +of the compact with Morgan. Then he could tell her that Morgan would not +come. + +Ollie was not long over her work that night. When Joe heard her door +close, he took his boots in his hand and went downstairs. He had left +his hat on the kitchen table, according to his nightly custom; the +moonlight coming in through the window reminded him of it as he passed. +He put it on, thinking that he would take a look around the road in the +vicinity of the gate, for he suspected that Morgan's submissive going +masked some iniquitous intent. Joe pulled on his boots, sitting in the +kitchen door, listening a moment before he closed it after him, and +walked softly toward the road. + +A careful survey as far as he could see in the bright moonlight, +satisfied him that Morgan had not left his horse and buggy around there +anywhere. He might come later. Joe decided to wait around there and +see. + +It was a cool autumn night; a prowling wind moved silently. Over +hedgerow and barn roof the moonlight lay in white radiance; the dusty +highway beyond the gate was changed by it into a royal road. Joe felt +that there were memories abroad as he rested his arms on the gate-post. +Moonlight and a soft wind always moved him with a feeling of indefinite +and shapeless tenderness, as elusive as the echo of a song. There was a +soothing quality in the night for him, which laved his bruised +sensibilities like balm. He expanded under its influence; the tumult of +his breast began to subside. + +The revelations of that day had fallen rudely upon the youth's +delicately tuned and finely adjusted nature. He had recoiled in horror +from the sacrilege which that house had suffered. In a measure he felt +that he was guilty along with Ollie in her unspeakable sin, in that he +had been so stupid as to permit it. + +But, he reflected as he waited there with his hand upon the weathered +gate, great and terrible as the upheaval of his day-world had been, the +night had descended unconscious of it. The moonlight had brightened +untroubled by it; the wind had come from its wooded places unhurried for +it, and unvexed. After all, it had been only an unheard discord in the +eternal, vast harmony. The things of men were matters of infinitesimal +consequence in nature. The passing of a nation of men would not disturb +its tranquillity as much as the falling of a leaf. + +It was then long past the hour when he was habitually asleep, and his +vigil weighed on him heavily. No one had passed along the road; Morgan +had not come in sight. Joe was weary from his day's internal conflict +and external toil. He began to consider the advisability of returning to +bed. + +Perhaps, thought he, his watch was both futile and unjust. Ollie did not +intend to keep her part in the agreement. She must be burning with +remorse for her transgression. + +He turned and walked slowly toward the house, stopping a little way +along to look back and make sure that Morgan had not appeared. Thus he +stood a little while, and then resumed his way. + +The house was before him, shadows in the sharp angles of its roof, its +windows catching the moonlight like wakeful eyes. There was a calm over +it, and a somnolent peace. It seemed impossible that iniquitous desires +could live and grow on a night like that. Ollie must be asleep, said he, +and repentant in her dreams. + +Joe felt that he might go to his rest with honesty. It would be welcome, +as the desire of tired youth for its bed is strong. At the well he +stopped again to look back for Morgan. + +As he turned a light flashed in the kitchen, gleamed a moment, went out +suddenly. It was as if a match had been struck to look for something +quickly found, and then blown out with a puff of breath. + +At once the fabric of his hopes collapsed, and his honest attempts to +lift Ollie back to her smirched pedestal and invest her with at least a +part of her former purity of heart, came to a painful end. She was +preparing to leave. The hour when he must speak had come. + +He approached the door noiselessly. It was closed, as he had left it, +and within everything was still. As he stood hesitating before it, his +hand lifted to lay upon the latch, his heart laboring in painful lunges +against his ribs, it opened without a sound, and Ollie stood before him +against the background of dark. + +The moonlight came down on him through the half-bare arbor, and fell in +mottled patches around him where he stood, his hand still lifted, as if +to help her on her way. Ollie caught her breath in a frightened start, +and shrank back. + +"You don't need to be afraid, Ollie--it's Joe," said he. + +"Oh, you scared me so!" she panted. + +Each then waited as if for the other to speak, and the silence seemed +long. + +"Were you going out somewhere?" asked Joe. + +"No; I forgot to put away a few things, and I came down," said she. "I +woke up out of my sleep thinking of them," she added. + +"Well!" said he, wonderingly. "Can I help you any, Ollie?" + +"No; it's only some milk and things," she told him. "You know how Isom +takes on if he finds anything undone. I was afraid he might come in +tonight and see them." + +"Well!" said Joe again, in a queer, strained way. + +He was standing in the door, blocking it with his body, clenching the +jamb with his hands on either side, as if to bar any attempt that she +might make to pass. + +"Will you strike a light, Ollie? I want to have a talk with you," said +he gravely. + +"Oh, Joe!" she protested, as if pleasantly scandalized by the request, +intentionally misreading it. + +"Have you got another match in your hand? Light the lamp." + +"Oh, what's the use?" said she. "I only ran down for a minute. We don't +need the light, do we, Joe? Can't you talk without it?" + +"No; I want you to light the lamp," he insisted. + +"I'll not do it!" she flared suddenly, turning as if to go to her room. +"You've not got any right to boss me around in my own house!" + +"I don't suppose I have, Ollie, and I didn't mean to," said he, stepping +into the room. + +Ollie retreated a few steps toward the inner door, and stopped. Joe +could hear her excited breathing as he flung his hat on the table. + +"Ollie, what I've got to say to you has to be said sooner or later +tonight, and you'd just as well hear it now," said Joe, trying to assure +her of his friendly intent by speaking softly, although his voice was +tremulous. "Morgan's gone; he'll not be back--at least not tonight." + +"Morgan?" said she. "What do you mean--what do I care where he's gone?" + +Joe made no reply. He fumbled for the box behind the stove and scraped a +slow sulphur match against the pipe. Its light discovered Ollie +shrinking against the wall where she had stopped, near the door. + +She was wearing a straw hat, which must have been a part of her bridal +gear. A long white veil, which she wore scarf-wise over the front +display of its flowers and fruits, came down and crossed behind her +neck. Its ends dangled upon her breast. The dress was one that Joe never +had seen her wear before, a girlish white thing with narrow ruffles. He +wondered as he looked at her with a great ache in his heart, how so much +seeming purity could be so base and foul. In that bitter moment he +cursed old Isom in his heart for goading her to this desperate bound. +She had been starving for a man's love, and for the lack of it she had +thrown herself away on a dog. + +Joe fitted the chimney on the burner of the lamp, and stood in judicial +seriousness before her, the stub of the burning match wasting in a +little blaze between his fingers. + +"Morgan's gone," he repeated, "and he'll never come back. I know all +about you two, and what you'd planned to do." + +Joe dropped the stub of the match and set his foot on it. + +Ollie stared at him, her face as white as her bridal dress, her eyes +big, like a barn-yard animal's eyes in a lantern's light. She was +gathering and wadding the ends of her veil in her hands; her lips were +open, showing the points of her small, white teeth. + +"Isom--he'll kill me!" she whispered. + +"Isom don't know about it," said Joe. + +"You'll tell him!" + +"No." + +Relief flickered in her face. She leaned forward a little, eagerly, as +if to speak, but said nothing. Joe shrank back from her, his hand +pressing heavily upon the table. + +"I never meant to tell him," said he slowly. + +She sprang toward him, her hands clasped appealingly. + +"Then you'll let me go, you'll let me go?" she cried eagerly. "I can't +stay here," she hurried on, "you know I can't stay here, Joe, and suffer +like he's made me suffer the past year! You say Morgan won't come----" + +"The coward, to try to steal a man's wife, and deceive you that way, +too!" said Joe, his anger rising. + +"Oh, you don't know him as well as I do!" she defended, shaking her head +solemnly. "He's so grand, and good, and I love him, Joe--oh, Joe, I love +him!" + +"It's wrong for you to say that!" Joe harshly reproved her. "I don't +want to hear you say that; you're Isom's wife." + +"Yes, God help me," said she. + +"You could be worse off than you are, Ollie; as it is you've got a +_name_!" + +"What's a name when you despise it?" said she bitterly. + +"Have you thought what people would say about you if you went away with +Morgan, Ollie?" inquired Joe gently. + +"I don't care. We intend to go to some place where we're not known, +and----" + +"Hide," said Joe. "Hide like thieves. And that's what you'd be, both of +you, don't you see? You'd never be comfortable and happy, Ollie, +skulking around that way." + +"Yes, I would be happy," she maintained sharply. "Mr. Morgan is a +gentleman, and he's good. He'd be proud of me, he'd take care of me like +a lady." + +"For a little while maybe, till he found somebody else that he thought +more of," said Joe. "When it comes so easy to take one man's wife, he +wouldn't stop at going off with another." + +"It's a lie--you know it's a lie! Curtis Morgan's a gentleman, I tell +you, and I'll not hear you run him down!" + +"Gentlemen and ladies don't have to hide," said Joe. + +"You're lying to me!" she charged him suddenly, her face coloring +angrily. "He wouldn't go away from here on the say-so of a kid like you. +He's down there waiting for me, and I'm going to him." + +"I wouldn't deceive you, Ollie," said he, leaving his post near the +door, opening a way for her to pass. "If you think he's there, go and +see. But I tell you he's gone. He asked me to shut my eyes to this thing +and let you and him carry it out; but I couldn't do that, so he went +away." + +She knew he was not deceiving her, and she turned on him with +reproaches. + +"You want to chain me here and see me work myself to death for that old +miserly Isom!" she stormed. "You're just as bad as he is; you ain't got +a soft spot in your heart." + +"Yes, I'd rather see you stay here with Isom and do a nigger woman's +work, like you have been doing ever since you married him, than let you +go away with Morgan for one mistaken day. What you'd have to face with +him would kill you quicker than work, and you'd suffer a thousand times +more sorrow." + +"What do you know about it?" she sneered. "You never loved anybody. +That's the way with you religious fools--you don't get any fun out of +life yourselves, and you want to spoil everybody else's. Well, you'll +not spoil mine, I tell you. I'll go to Morgan this very night, and you +can't stop me!" + +"Well, we'll see about that, Ollie," he told her, showing a little +temper. "I told him that I'd keep you here if I had to tie you, and I'll +do that, too, if I have to. Isom----" + +"Isom, Isom!" she mocked. "Well, tell Isom you spied on me and tell the +old fool what you saw--tell him, tell him! Tell him all you know, and +tell him more! Tell the old devil I hate him, and always did hate him; +tell him I've got out of bed in the middle of the night more than once +to get the ax and kill him in his sleep! Tell him I wish he was dead and +in hell, where he belongs, and I'm sorry I didn't send him there! What +do I care about Isom, or you, or anybody else, you spy, you sneaking +spy!" + +"I'll go with you to the road if you want to see if he's there," Joe +offered. + +Ollie's fall from the sanctified place of irreproachable womanhood had +divested her of all awe in his eyes. He spoke to her now as he would +have reasoned with a child. + +"No, I suppose you threatened to go after Isom, or something like that, +and he went away," said she. "You couldn't scare him, he wouldn't run +from you. Tomorrow he'll send me word, and I'll go to him in spite of +you and Isom and everything else. I don't care--I don't care--you're +mean to me, too! you're as mean as you can be!" + +She made a quick tempestuous turn from anger to tears, lifting her arm +to her face and hiding her eyes in the bend of her elbow. Her shoulders +heaved; she sobbed in childlike pity for herself and the injury which +she seemed to think she bore. + +Joe put his hand on her shoulder. + +"Don't take on that way about it, Ollie," said he. + +"Oh, oh!" she moaned, her hands pressed to her face now; "why couldn't +you have been kind to me; why couldn't you have said a good word to me +sometimes? I didn't have a friend in the world, and I was so lonesome +and tired and--and--and--everything!" + +Her reproachful appeal was disconcerting to Joe. How could he tell her +that he had not understood her striving and yearning to reach him, and +that at last understanding, he had been appalled by the enormity of his +own heart's desire. He said nothing for a little while, but took her by +one tear-wet hand and led her away from the door. Near the table he +stopped, still holding her hand, stroking it tenderly with comforting +touch. + +"Never mind, Ollie," said he at last; "you go to bed now and don't think +any more about going away with Morgan. If I thought it was best for your +peace and happiness for you to go, I'd step out of the way at once. But +he'd drag you down, Ollie, lower than any woman you ever saw, for they +don't have that kind of women here. Morgan isn't as good a man as Isom +is, with all his hard ways and stinginess. If he's honest and honorable, +he can wait for you till Isom dies. He'll not last more than ten or +fifteen years longer, and you'll be young even then, Ollie. I don't +suppose anybody ever gets too old to be happy any more than they get too +old to be sad." + +"No, I don't suppose they do, Joe," she sighed. + +She had calmed down while he talked. Now she wiped her eyes on her veil, +while the last convulsions of sobbing shook her now and then, like the +withdrawing rumble of thunder after a storm. + +"I'll put out the light, Ollie," said he. "You go on to bed." + +"Oh, Joe, Joe!" said she in a little pleading, meaningless way; a little +way of reproach and softness. + +She lifted her tear-bright eyes, with the reflection of her subsiding +passion in them, and looked yearningly into his. Ollie suddenly found +herself feeling small and young, penitent and frail, in the presence of +this quickly developed man. His strength seemed to rise above her, and +spread round her, and warm her in its protecting folds. There was +comfort in him, and promise. + +The wife of the dead viking could turn to the living victor with a +smile. It is a comforting faculty that has come down from the first +mother to the last daughter; it is as ineradicable in the sex as the +instinct which cherishes fire. Ollie was primitive in her passions and +pains. If she could not have Morgan, perhaps she could yet find a +comforter in Joe. She put her free hand on his shoulder and looked up +into his face again. Tears were on her lashes, her lips were loose and +trembling. + +"If you'd be good to me, Joe; if you'd only be good and kind, I could +stay," she said. + +Joe was moved to tenderness by her ingenuous sounding plea. He put his +hand on her shoulder in a comforting way. She was very near him then, +and her small hand, so lately cold and tear-damp, was warm within his. +She threw her head back in expectant attitude; her yearning eyes seemed +to be dragging him to her lips. + +"I will be good to you, Ollie; just as good and kind as I know how to +be," he promised. + +She swayed a little nearer; her warm, soft body pressed against him, her +bright young eyes still striving to draw him down to her lips. + +"Oh, Joe, Joe," she murmured in a snuggling, contented way. + +Sweat sprang upon his forehead and his throbbing temples, so calm and +cool but a moment before. He stood trembling, his damp elf-locks +dangling over his brow. Through the half-open door a little breath of +wind threaded in and made the lamp-blaze jump; it rustled outside +through the lilac-bushes like the passing of a lady's gown. + +Joe's voice was husky in his throat when he spoke. + +"You'd better go to bed, Ollie," said he. + +He still clung foolishly to her willing hand as he led her to the door +opening to the stairs. + +"No, you go on up first, Joe," she said. "I want to put the wood in the +stove ready to light in the morning, and set a few little things out. +It'll give me a minute longer to sleep. You can trust me now, Joe," she +protested, looking earnestly into his eyes, "for I'm not going away with +Morgan now." + +"I'm glad to hear you say that, Ollie," he told her, unfeigned pleasure +in his voice. + +"I want you to promise me you'll never tell Isom," said she. + +"I never intended to tell him," he replied. + +She withdrew her hand from his quickly, and quickly both of them fled to +his shoulders. + +"Stoop down," she coaxed with a seductive, tender pressure of her hands, +"and tell me, Joe." + +Isom's step fell on the porch. He crashed the door back against the wall +as he came in, and Joe and Ollie fell apart in guilty haste. Isom stood +for a moment on the threshold, amazement in his staring eyes and open +mouth. Then a cloud of rage swept him, he lifted his huge, hairy fist +above his head like a club. + +"I'll kill you!" he threatened, covering the space between him and Joe +in two long strides. + +Ollie shrank away, half stooping, from the expected blow, her hands +raised in appealing defense. Joe put up his open hand as if to check +Isom in his assault. + +"Hold on, Isom; don't you hit me," he said. + +Whatever Isom's intention had been, he contained himself. He stopped, +facing Joe, who did not yield an inch. + +"Hit you, you whelp!" said Isom, his lips flattened back from his teeth. +"I'll do more than hit you. You--" He turned on Ollie: "I saw you. +You've disgraced me! I'll break every bone in your body! I'll throw you +to the hogs!" + +"If you'll hold on a minute and listen to reason, Isom, you'll find +there's nothing at all like you think there is," said Joe. "You're +making a mistake that you may be sorry for." + +"Mistake!" repeated Isom bitterly, as if his quick-rising rage had sunk +again and left him suddenly weak. "Yes, the mistake I made was when +I took you in to save you from the poorhouse and give you a home. I +go away for a day and come back to find you two clamped in each +other's arms so close together I couldn't shove a hand between you. +Mistake----" + +"That's not so, Isom," Joe protested indignantly. + +"Heaven and hell, didn't I see you!" roared Isom. "There's law for you +two if I want to take it on you, but what's the punishment of the law +for what you've done on me? Law! No, by God! I'll make my own law for +this case. I'll kill both of you if I'm spared to draw breath five +minutes more!" + +Isom lifted his long arm in witness of his terrible intention, and cast +his glaring eyes about the room as if in search of a weapon to begin his +work. + +"I tell you, Isom, nothing wrong ever passed between me and your wife," +insisted Joe earnestly. "You're making a terrible mistake." + +Ollie, shrinking against the wall, looked imploringly at Joe. He had +promised never to tell Isom what he knew, but how was he to save himself +now without betraying her? Was he man enough to face it out and bear the +strain, rush upon old Isom and stop him in his mad intention, or would +he weaken and tell all he knew, here at the very first test of his +strength? She could not read his intention in his face, but his eyes +were frowning under his gathered brows as he watched every move that old +Isom made. He was leaning forward a little, his arms were raised, like a +wrestler waiting for the clinch. + +Isom's face was as gray as ashes that have lain through many a rain. He +stood where he had stopped at Joe's warning, and now was pulling up his +sleeves as if to begin his bloody work. + +"You two conspired against me from the first," he charged, his voice +trembling; "you conspired to eat me holler, and now you conspire to +bring shame and disgrace to my gray hairs. I trust you and depend on +you, and I come home----" + +Isom's arraignment broke off suddenly. + +He stood with arrested jaw, gazing intently at the table. Joe followed +his eyes, but saw nothing on the table to hold a man's words and +passions suspended in that strange manner. Nothing was there but the +lamp and Joe's old brown hat. That lay there, its innocent, battered +crown presenting to Joe's eyes, its broad and pliant brim tilted up on +the farther side as if resting on a fold of itself. + +It came to Joe in an instant that Isom's anger had brought paralysis +upon him. He started forward to assist him, Isom's name on his lips, +when Isom leaped to the table with a smothered cry in his throat. He +seemed to hover over the table a moment, leaning with his breast upon +it, gathering some object to him and hugging it under his arm. + +"Great God!" panted Isom in shocked voice, standing straight between +them, his left arm pressed to his breast as if it covered a mortal +wound. He twisted his neck and glared at Joe, but he did not disclose +the thing that he had gathered from the table. + +"Great God!" said he again, in the same shocked, panting voice. + +"Isom," began Joe, advancing toward him. + +Isom retreated quickly. He ran to the other end of the table where he +stood, bending forward, hugging his secret to his breast as if he meant +to defend it with the blood of his heart. He stretched out his free hand +to keep Joe away. + +"Stand off! Stand off!" he warned. + +Again Isom swept his wild glance around the room. Near the door, on two +prongs of wood nailed to the wall, hung the gun of which Joe had spoken +to Morgan in his warning. It was a Kentucky rifle, long barreled, heavy, +of two generations past. Isom used it for hawks, and it hung there +loaded and capped from year's beginning to year's end. Isom seemed to +realize when he saw it, for the first time in that season of insane +rage, that it offered to his hand a weapon. He leaped toward it, +reaching up his hand. + +"_I'll kill you now!_" said he. + +In one long spring Isom crossed from where he stood and seized the rifle +by the muzzle. + +"Stop him, stop him!" screamed Ollie, pressing her hands to her ears. + +"Isom, Isom!" warned Joe, leaping after him. + +Isom was wrenching at the gun to free the breech from the fork when Joe +caught him by the shoulder and tried to drag him back. + +"Look out--the hammer!" he cried. + +But quicker than the strength of Joe's young arm, quicker than old +Isom's wrath, was the fire in that corroded cap; quicker than the old +man's hand, the powder in the nipple of the ancient gun. + +Isom fell at the report, his left hand still clutching the secret thing +to his bosom, his right clinging to the rifle-barrel. He lay on his back +where he had crashed down, as straight as if stretched to a line. His +staring eyes rolled, all white; his mouth stood open, as if in an +unuttered cry. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +DELIVERANCE + + +Joe, stunned by the sudden tragedy, stood for a moment as he had stopped +when he laid his hand on Isom's shoulder. Ollie, on the other side of +the fallen man, leaned over and peered into his face. + +In that moment a wild turmoil of hopes and fears leaped in her hot +brain. Was it deliverance, freedom? Or was it only another complication +of shame and disgrace? Was he dead, slain by his own hand in the +baseness of his own heart? Or was he only hurt, to rise up again +presently with revilings and accusations, to make the future more +terrible than the past. Did this end it; did this come in answer to her +prayers for a bolt to fall on him and wither him in his tracks? + +Even in that turgid moment, when she turned these speculations, guilty +hopes, wild fears, in her mind, Isom's eyelids quivered, dropped; and +the sounding breath in his nostrils ceased. + +Isom Chase lay dead upon the floor. In the crook of his elbow rested a +little time-fingered canvas bag, one corner of which had broken open in +his fall, out of which poured the golden gleanings of his hard and +bitter years. + +On the planks beneath his shoulder-blades, where his feet had come and +gone for forty years, all leached and whitened by the strong lye of +countless scrubbings at the hands of the old wife and the new, his blood +ran down in a little stream. It gathered in a cupped and hollowed plank, +and stood there in a little pool, glistening, black. His wife saw her +white face reflected in it as she raised up from peering into his blank, +dead eyes. + +"Look at his blood!" said she, hoarsely whispering. "Look at it--look at +it!" + +"Isom! Isom!" called Joe softly, a long pause between his words, as if +summoning a sleeper. He stooped over, touching Isom's shoulder. + +There was a trickle of blood on Isom's beard, where the rifle ball had +struck him in the throat; back of his head that vital stream was +wasting, enlarging the pool in the hollowed plank near Ollie's foot. + +"He's dead!" she whispered. + +Again, in a flash, that quick feeling of lightness, almost joyful +liberty, lifted her. Isom was dead, dead! What she had prayed for had +fallen. Cruel, hard-palmed Isom, who had gripped her tender throat, was +dead there on the floor at her feet! Dead by his own act, in the anger +of his loveless heart. + +"I'm afraid he is," said Joe, dazed and aghast. + +The night wind came in through the open door and vexed the lamp with +harassing breath. Its flame darted like a serpent's tongue, and Joe, +fearful that it might go out and leave them in the dark with that +bleeding corpse, crossed over softly and closed the door. + +Ollie stood there, her hands clenched at her sides, no stirring of pity +in her heart for her husband with the stain of blood upon his harsh, +gray beard. In that moment she was supremely selfish. The possibility of +accusation or suspicion in connection with his death did not occur to +her. She was too shallow to look ahead to that unpleasant contingency. +The bright lure of liberty was in her eyes; it was dancing in her brain. +As she looked at Joe's back the moment he stood with hand on the door, +her one thought was: + +"Will he tell?" + +Joe came back and stood beside the lifeless form of Isom, looking down +at him for a moment, pity and sorrow in his face. Then he tiptoed far +around the body and took up his hat from the floor where it had fallen +in Isom's scramble for the sack of gold. + +"What are we going to do?" asked Ollie, suddenly afraid. + +"I'll go after the doctor, but he can't help him any," said Joe. "I'll +wake up the Greenings as I go by and send some of them over to stay with +you." + +"Don't leave me here with it--don't leave me!" begged Ollie. "I can't +stay here in the house with it alone!" + +She shrank away from her husband's body, unlovely in death as he had +been unloved in life, and clung to Joe's arm. + +But a little while had passed since Isom fell--perhaps not yet five +minutes--but someone had heard the shot, someone was coming, running, +along the hard path between gate and kitchen door. Ollie started. + +"Listen!" she said. "They're coming! What will you say?" + +"Go upstairs," he commanded, pushing her toward the door, harshness in +his manner and words. "It'll not do for you to be found here all dressed +up that way." + +"What will you tell them--what will you say?" she insisted, whispering. + +"Go upstairs; let me do the talking," he answered, waving her away. + +A heavy foot struck the porch, a heavy hand beat a summons on the door. +Ollie's white dress gleamed a moment in the dark passage leading to the +stairs, the flying end of her veil glimmered. + +"Come in," called Joe. + +Sol Greening, their neighbor, whose gate was almost opposite Isom's, +whose barn was not eighty rods from the kitchen door, stood panting in +the lamplight, his heavy beard lifting and falling on his chest. + +"What--what's happened--who was that shootin'--Isom! God A'mighty, is he +hurt?" + +"Dead," said Joe dully, standing hat in hand. He looked dazedly at the +excited man in the door, whose mouth was open as he stared fearfully at +the corpse. + +"How? Who done it?" asked Greening, coming in on tiptoe, his voice +lowered to a whisper, in the cautious fashion of people who move in the +vicinity of the sound-sleeping dead. The tread of living man never more +would disturb old Isom Chase, but Sol Greening moved as silently as a +blowing leaf. + +"Who done it?" he repeated. + +"He did," answered Joe. + +"_He_ done it!" repeated Greening, looking from the rifle, still +clutched in Isom's hand, to the gold in the crook of his arm, and from +that to Joe's blanched face. "_He_ done it!" + +"Jerking down the gun," explained Joe, pointing to the broken rack. + +"Jerkin' down the gun! What'd he want--look--look at all that money! The +sack's busted--it's spillin' all over him!" + +"He's dead," said Joe weakly, "and I was going after the doctor." + +"Stone dead," said Greening, bending over the body; "they ain't a puff +of breath left in him. The doctor couldn't do him no good, Joe, but I +reckon----" + +Greening straightened up and faced Joe, sternly. + +"Where's Missis Chase?" he asked. + +"Upstairs," said Joe, pointing. + +"Does _she_ know? Who was here when it happened?" + +"Isom and I," said Joe. + +"God A'mighty!" said Greening, looking at Joe fearfully, "just you and +him?" + +"We were alone," said Joe, meeting Greening's eyes unfalteringly. "We +had some words, and Isom lost his temper. He jumped for the gun and I +tried to stop him, but he jerked it by the barrel and the hammer +caught." + +"Broke his neck," said Greening, mouth and eyes wide open; "broke it +clean! Where'd that money come from?" + +"I don't know," said Joe; "I didn't see it till he fell." + +"Words!" said Greening, catching at it suddenly, as if what Joe had said +had only then penetrated his understanding. "You and him had some +words!" + +"Yes, we had some words," said Joe. + +"Where's Missis Chase?" demanded Greening again, turning his eyes +suspiciously around the room. + +"Upstairs, I told you Sol," replied Joe. "She went to bed early." + +"Hush!" cautioned Greening, holding up his hand, listening intently. "I +hear her movin' around. Let me talk to her." + +He tiptoed to the door at the foot of the stairs, and listened again; +tiptoed back to the outer portal, which he had left swinging behind him, +and closed it gently. There was no sound from above now to indicate that +Ollie was awake. Sol stood near Isom's body, straining and listening, +his hand to his ear. + +"She must 'a' been turnin' over in bed," said he. "Well, I guess I'll +have to call her. I hate to do it, but she's got to be told." + +"Yes, she must be told," said Joe. + +Sol stood as if reflecting on it a little while. Joe was on the other +side of Isom's body, near the table. Both of them looked down into his +bloodless face. + +"You had words!" said Greening, looking sternly at Joe. "What about?" + +"It was a matter between him and me, Sol, it don't concern anybody +else," said Joe in a manner of dignity and reserve that was blunter than +his words. Sol was not impressed by this implied rebuke, and hint to +mind his own business. + +"That ain't no answer," said he. + +"Well, it will have to do for you, Sol," said Joe. + +"I don't know about that," declared Sol. "If you can't give me the +straight of it, in plain words, I'll have to take you up." + +Joe stood thoughtfully silent a little while. Then he raised his head +and looked at Sol steadily. + +"If there's any arresting to be done--" he began, but checked himself +abruptly there, as if he had reconsidered what he started to say. +"Hadn't we better pick Isom up off the floor?" he suggested. + +"No, no; don't touch him," Greening interposed hurriedly. "Leave him lay +for the coroner; that's the law." + +"All right." + +"I'll have to tell Missis Chase before we go," said Sol. + +"Yes, you must tell her," Joe agreed. + +Sol rapped on the woodwork of the wall at the bottom of the stairs with +his big knuckles. The sound rose sudden and echoing in the house. Ollie +was heard opening her door. + +"Missis Chase--oh, Missis Chase!" called Greening. + +"Who's that, who's that?" came Ollie's voice, tremulous and frightened, +little above a whisper, from above. + +"It's Sol Greening. Don't come down here, don't come down!" + +"What was that noise? It sounded like a gun," said Ollie, a bit nearer +the head of the stairs, her words broken and disjointed. + +"Something's happened, something mighty bad," said Sol. "You stay right +where you are till I send the old woman over to you--do you hear +me?--stay right there!" + +"Oh, what is it, what is it?" moaned Ollie. "Joe--where's Joe? Call him, +Mr. Greening, call Joe!" + +"He's here," Sol assured her, his voice full of portent "he's goin' away +with me for a little while. I tell you it's terrible, you must stay +right up there." + +"Oh, I'm so afraid--I'm so afraid!" said Ollie, coming nearer. + +"Go back! Go back!" commanded Greening. + +"If you'll only stick to it that way," thought Joe as Ollie's moans +sounded in his ears. + +"Was it robbers--is somebody hurt?" she asked. + +"Yes, somebody's hurt, and hurt bad," said Greening, "but you can't do +no good by comin' down here. You stay right there till the old woman +comes over; it'll only be a minute." + +"Let me go with you. Oh, Mr. Greening, don't leave me here alone!" she +implored. + +"There's nothing to hurt you, Ollie," said Joe. "You do as Sol tells you +and stay here. Go to your room and shut the door, and wait till Mrs. +Greening comes." + +Sol leaned into the staircase and listened until he heard her door +close. Then he turned and shut the kitchen window and the door leading +into the body of the house, leaving the burning lamp on the table to +keep watch over Isom and his money. + +"We'll go out the front way," said Sol to Joe. "Nothing must be touched +in that room till the coroner orders it. Now, don't you try to dodge me, +Joe." + +"I've got no reason to want to dodge any man," said Joe. + +"Well, for your own sake, as well as your old mother's, I hope to God +you ain't!" said Sol. "But this here thing looks mighty bad for +somebody, Joe. I'm goin' to take you over to Bill Frost's and turn you +over to the law." + +Joe made no comment, but led the way around the house. At the kitchen +window Greening laid a restraining hand on Joe's shoulder and stopped +him, while he looked in at the corpse of Isom Chase. + +"Him and me, we served on the same jury this afternoon," said Sol, +nodding toward the window as he turned away. "I rode to overtake him on +the way home, but he had the start of me; and I was just goin' in the +gate when I heard that shot. I poled right over here. On the same jury, +and now he's dead!" + +As they approached the gate Joe looked back, the events of the past few +minutes and the shock of the tragedy, which had fallen as swift as a +lightning stroke, stunning him out of his usual cool reasoning. + +There lay the house, its roof white in the moonlight, a little stream of +yellow coming through the kitchen window, striking the lilac-bushes and +falling brokenly on the grass beyond. There was reality in that; but in +this whirl of events which crowded his mind there was no tangible thing +to lay hold upon. + +That Isom was dead on the kitchen floor seemed impossible and unreal, +like an event in a dream which one struggles against the terror of, +consoling himself, yet not convincingly, as he fights its sad illusions, +with the argument that it is nothing but a vision, and that with waking +it will pass away. + +What was this awful thing with which Sol Greening had charged him, over +which the whole neighborhood soon must talk and conjecture? + +Murder! + +There was no kinder word. Yet the full terror of its meaning was not +over him, for his senses still swirled and felt numb in the suddenness +of the blow. He had not meant that this accusation should fasten upon +him when he sent Ollie from the room; he had not thought that far ahead. +His one concern was that she should not be found there, dressed and +ready to go, and the story of her weakness and folly given heartlessly +to the world. + +And Curtis Morgan--where was he, the man to blame for all this thing? +Not far away, thought Joe, driving that white road in security, perhaps, +even that very hour, while he, who had stood between him and his unholy +desires, was being led away by Sol Greening like a calf in a rope. They +were going to charge him with the murder of Isom Chase and take him away +to jail. + +How far would Morgan permit them to go? Would he come forward to bear +his share of it, or would he skulk away like a coward and leave him, the +bondman, to defend the name of his dead master's wife at the cost of his +own honor and liberty, perhaps his life? + +All that had gone before Isom threw his life away in that moment of +blind anger, must be laid bare if he was to free himself of the shadow +of suspicion. It was not the part of an honorable man to seek his own +comfort and safety at the cost of a woman's name, no matter how unworthy +he knew her to be, while that name and fame still stood flawless before +the world. In the absence of some other avenue to vindication, a +gentleman must suffer in silence, even to death. It would be cruel, +unjust, and hard to bear, but that was the only way. He wondered if +Ollie understood. + +But there were certain humiliations and indignities which a gentleman +could not bend his neck to; and being led away by an inferior man like +Sol Greening to be delivered up, just as if he thought that he might +have run away if given an opening, was one of them. Sol had passed on +through the open gate, which he had not stopped to close when he ran in, +before he noticed that Joe was not following. He looked back. Joe was +standing inside the fence, his arms folded across his chest. + +"Come on here!" ordered Sol. + +"No, I'm not going any farther with you, Sol," said Joe quietly. "If +there's any arresting to be done, I guess I can do it myself." + +Greening was a self-important man in his small-bore way, who saw in this +night's tragedy fine material for increasing his consequence, at least +temporarily, in that community. The first man on the bloody scene, the +man to shut up the room for the coroner, the man to make the arrest and +deliver the murderer to the constable--all within half an hour. It was a +distinction which Greening did not feel like yielding. + +"Come on here, I tell you!" he commanded again. + +"If you want to get on your horse and go after Bill, I'll wait right +here till he comes," said Joe; "but I'll not go any farther with you. I +didn't shoot Isom, Sol, and you know it. If you don't want to go after +Bill, then I'll go on over there alone and tell him what's happened. If +he wants to arrest me then, he can do it." + +Seeing that by this arrangement much of his glory would get away from +him, Greening stepped forward and reached out his hand, as if to compel +submission. Joe lifted his own hand to intercept it with warning +gesture. + +"No, don't you touch me, Sol!" he cautioned. + +Greening let his hand fall. He stepped back a pace, Joe's subdued, calm +warning penetrating his senses like the sound of a blow on an anvil. +Last week this gangling strip of a youngster was nothing but a boy, +fetching and carrying in Isom Chase's barn-yard. Tonight, big and bony +and broad-shouldered, he was a man, with the same outward gentleness +over the iron inside of him as old Peter Newbolt before him; the same +soft word in his mouth as his Kentucky father, who had, without oath or +malediction, shot dead a Kansas Redleg, in the old days of border +strife, for spitting on his boot. + +"Will you go, or shall I?" asked Joe. + +Greening made a show of considering it a minute. + +"Well, Joe, you go on over and tell him yourself," said he, putting on +the front of generosity and confidence, "I know you won't run off." + +"If I had anything to run off for, I'd go as quick as anybody, I guess," +said Joe. + +"I'll go and fetch the old lady over to keep company with Mrs. Chase," +said Sol, hurriedly striking across the road. + +Joe remained standing there a little while. The growing wind, which +marked the high tide of night, lifted his hat-brim and let the moonlight +fall upon his troubled face. Around him was the peace of the sleeping +earth, with its ripe harvest in its hand; the scents of ripe leaves and +fruit came out of the orchard; the breath of curing clover from the +fields. + +Joe brought a horse from the barn and leaped on its bare back. He turned +into the highroad, lashing the animal with the halter, and galloped away +to summon Constable Bill Frost. + +Past hedges he rode, where cricket drummers beat the long roll for the +muster of winter days; past gates letting into fields, clamped and +chained to their posts as if jealous of the plenty which they guarded; +past farmsteads set in dark forests of orchard trees and tall windbreaks +of tapering poplar, where never a light gleamed from a pane, where sons +and daughters, worn husbandmen and weary wives, lay soothed in honest +slumber; past barn-yards, where cattle sighed as they lay in the +moonshine champing upon their cuds; down into swales, where the air was +damp and cold, like a wet hand on the face; up to hill-crests, over +which the perfumes of autumn were blowing--the spices of goldenrod and +ragweed, the elusive scent of hedge orange, the sweet of curing fodder +in the shock; past peace and contentment, and the ripe reward of men's +summer toil. + +Isom Chase was dead; stark, white, with blood upon his beard. + +There a dog barked, far away, raising a ripple on the placid night; +there a cock crowed, and there another caught his cry; it passed on, on, +fading away eastward, traveling like an alarm, like a spreading wave, +until it spent itself against the margin of breaking day. + +Isom Chase was dead, with an armful of gold upon his breast. + +Aye, Isom Chase was dead. Back there in the still house his limbs +were stiffening upon his kitchen floor. Isom Chase was dead on the +eve of the most bountiful harvest his lands had yielded him in all +his toil-freighted years. Dead, with his fields around him; dead, +with the maize dangling heavy ears in the white moonlight; dead, with +the gold of pumpkin lurking like unminted treasure in the margin of his +field. Dead, with fat cattle in his pastures, fat swine in his +confines, sleek horses in his barn-stalls, fat cockerels on his +perch; dead, with a young wife shrinking among the shadows above his +cold forehead, her eyes unclouded by a tear, her panting breast +undisturbed by a sigh of pity or of pain. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +WILL HE TELL? + + +Constable Bill Frost was not a man of such acute suspicion as Sol +Greening. He was a thin, slow man with a high, sharp nose and a +sprangling, yellow mustache which extended broadly, like the horns of a +steer. It did not enter his mind to connect Joe with the tragedy in a +criminal way as they rode together back to the farm. + +When they arrived, they found Sol Greening and his married son Dan +sitting on the front steps. Mrs. Greening was upstairs, comforting the +young widow, who was "racked like a fiddle," according to Sol. + +Sol took the constable around to the window and pointed out the body of +Isom stretched beside the table. + +"You're a officer of the law," said Sol, "and these here primisis is now +in your hands and charge, but I don't think you orto go in that room. I +think you orto leave him lay, just the way he dropped, for the coroner. +That's the law." + +Frost was of the same opinion. He had no stomach for prying around dead +men, anyhow. + +"We'll leave him lay, Sol," said he. + +"And it's my opinion that you orto put handcuffs on that feller," said +Sol. + +"Which feller?" asked Bill. + +"That boy Joe," said Sol. + +"Well, I ain't got any, and I wouldn't put 'em on him if I had," said +Bill. "He told me all about how it happened when we was comin' over. +Why, you don't suspiciont he done it, do you, Sol?" + +"Circumstantial evidence," said Sol, fresh from jury service and full of +the law, "is dead ag'in' him, Bill. If I was you I'd slap him under +arrest. They had words, you know." + +"Yes; he told me they did," said Bill. + +"But he didn't tell you what them words was about," said Sol deeply. + +The constable turned to Sol, the shaft of suspicion working its way +through the small door of his mind. + +"By ganny!" said he. + +"I'd take him up and hand him over to the sheriff in the morning," +advised Sol. + +"I reckon I better do it," Frost agreed, almost knocked breathless by +the importance of the thing he had overlooked. + +So they laid their heads together to come to a proper method of +procedure, and presently they marched around the corner of the house, +shoulder to shoulder, as if prepared to intercept and overwhelm Joe if +he tried to make a dash for liberty. + +They had left Joe sitting on the steps with Dan, and now they hurried +around as if they expected to find his place empty and Dan stretched +out, mangled and bleeding. But Joe was still there, in friendly +conversation with Dan, showing no intention of running away. Frost +advanced and laid his hand on Joe's shoulder. + +"Joe Newbolt," said he, "I put you under arrest on the suspiciont of +shootin' and murderin' Isom Chase in cold blood." + +It was a formula contrived between the constable and Sol. Sol had +insisted on the "cold blood." That was important and necessary, he +declared. Omit that in making the arrest, and you had no case. It would +fall through. + +Joe stood up, placing himself at the immediate disposal of the +constable, which was rather embarrassing to Bill. + +"Well, Bill, if you think it's necessary, all right," said he. + +"Form of law demands it," said Sol. + +"But you might wait and see what the coroner thinks about it," suggested +Joe. + +"Perliminaries," said Greening in his deep way. + +Then the question of what to do with the prisoner until morning arose. +Joe pointed out that they could make no disposition of him, except to +hold him in custody, until the coroner had held an inquest into the case +and a conclusion had been reached by the jury. He suggested that they +allow him to go to bed and get some needed sleep. + +That seemed to be a very sensible suggestion, according to Bill's view +of it. But Sol didn't know whether it would be a regular proceeding and +in strict accord with the forms of law. Indeed, he was of the opinion, +after deliberating a while, that it would weaken the case materially. He +was strongly in favor of handcuffs, or, in the absence of regulation +manacles, a half-inch rope. + +After a great deal of discussion, during which Frost kept his hand +officiously on Joe's shoulder, it was agreed that the prisoner should be +allowed to go to bed. He was to be lodged in the spare room upstairs, +the one lately occupied by Morgan. Frost escorted him to it, and locked +the door. + +"Is they erry winder in that room?" asked Sol, when Bill came back. + +"Reckon so," said Frost, starting nervously. "I didn't look." + +"Better see," said Sol, getting up to investigate. + +They went round to the side of the house. Yes, there was a window, and +it was wide open. + +But any doubt that the prisoner might have escaped through it was soon +quieted by the sound of his snore. Joe had thrown himself across the +bed, boots and all, and was already shoulder-deep in sleep. They decided +that, at daylight, Sol's son should ride to the county-seat, seven miles +distant, and notify the coroner. + +During the time they spent between Joe's retirement and daybreak, Sol +improved the minutes by arraigning, convicting, and condemning Joe for +the murder of old Isom. He did it so impressively that he had Constable +Frost on edge over the tremendous responsibility that rested on his +back. Bill was in a sweat, although the night was cool. He tiptoed +around, listening, spying, prying; he stood looking up at Joe's window +until his neck ached; he explored the yard for hidden weapons and +treasure, and he peered and poked with a rake-handle into shrubbery and +vines. + +They could hear the women upstairs talking once in a while, and now and +again they caught the sound of a piteous moan. + +"She ain't seen him," said Sol; "I wouldn't let her come down. She may +not be in no condition to look on a muss like that, her a young woman +and only married a little while." + +Bill agreed on that, as he agreed on every hypothesis which Sol +propounded out of his wisdom, now that his official heat had been +raised. + +"If I hadn't got here when I did he'd 'a' skinned out with all of that +money," said Sol. "He was standin' there with his hat in his hand, all +ready to scoop it up." + +"How'd he come to go after me?" asked Bill. + +"Well, folks don't always do things on their own accord," said Sol, +giving Bill an unmistakable look. + +"Oh, that was the way of it," nodded Bill. "I thought it was funny if +he----" + +"He knowed he didn't have a ghost of a chance to git away between me and +you," said Sol. + +Morning came, and with it rode Sol's son to fetch the coroner. + +Sol had established himself in the case so that he would lose very +little glory in the day's revelations, and there remained one pleasant +duty yet which he proposed to take upon himself. That was nothing less +than carrying the news of the tragedy and Joe's arrest to Mrs. Newbolt +in her lonely home at the foot of the hill. + +Sol's son spread the news as he rode through the thin morning to the +county-seat, drawing up at barn-yard gates, hailing the neighbors on the +way to their fields, pouring the amazing story into the avid ears of all +who met him. Sol carried the story in the opposite direction, trotting +his horse along full of leisurely importance and the enjoyment of the +distinction which had fallen on him through his early connection with +the strange event. When they heard it, men turned back from their fields +and hastened to the Chase farm, to peer through the kitchen window and +shock their toil-blunted senses in the horror of the scene. + +Curiosity is stronger than thrift in most men, and those of that +community were no better fortified against it than others of their kind. +Long before Sol Greening's great lubberly son reached the county-seat, a +crowd had gathered at the farmstead of Isom Chase. Bill Frost, now +bristling with the dignity of his official power, moved among them +soberly, the object of great respect as the living, moving embodiment of +the law. + +Yesterday he was only Bill Frost, a tenant of rented land, filling an +office that was only a name; this morning he was Constable Bill Frost, +with the power and dignity of the State of Missouri behind him, guarding +a house of mystery and death. Law and authority had transformed him +overnight, settling upon him as the spirit used to come upon the +prophets in the good old days. + +Bill had only to stretch out his arm, and strong men would fall back, +pale and awed, away from the wall of the house; he had but to caution +them in a low word to keep hands off everything, to be instantly obeyed. +They drew away into the yard and stood in low-voiced groups, the process +of thought momentarily stunned by this terrible thing. + +"Ain't it awful?" a graybeard would whisper to a stripling youth. + +"Ain't it terrible?" would come the reply. + +"Well, well, well! Old Isom!" + +That was as far as any of them could go. Then they would walk softly, +scarcely breathing, to the window and peep in again. + +Joe, unhailed and undisturbed, was spinning out his sleep. Mrs. Greening +brought coffee and refreshments for the young widow from her own kitchen +across the road, and the sun rose and drove the mists out of the +hollows, as a shepherd drives his flocks out to graze upon the hill. + +As Sol Greening hitched his horse to the Widow Newbolt's fence, he heard +her singing with long-drawn quavers and lingering semibreves: + + + _There is a fountain filled with blood, + Drawn from Immanuel's veins...._ + +She appeared at the kitchen door, a pan in her hand, a flock of +expectant chickens craning their necks to see what she had to offer, at +the instant that Sol came around the corner of the house. She all but +let the pan fall in her amazement, and the song was cut off between her +lips in the middle of a word, for it was not more than six o'clock, +uncommonly early for visitors. + +"Mercy me, Sol Greening, you give me an awful jump!" said she. + +"Well, I didn't aim to," said Sol, turning over in his mind the speech +that he had drawn up in the last uninterrupted stage of his journey +over. + +Mrs. Newbolt looked at him sharply, turning her head a little with a +quick, pert movement, not unlike one of her hens. + +"Is anybody sick over your way?" she asked. + +She could not account for the early visit in any other manner. People +commonly came for her at all hours of the day and night when there was +somebody sick and in need of a herb-wise nurse. She had helped a great +many of the young ones of that community into the world, and she had +eased the pains of many old ones who were quitting it. So she thought +that Greening's visit must have something to do with either life or +death. + +"No, nobody just azackly sick," dodged Greening. + +"Well, laws my soul, you make a mighty mystery over it! What's the +matter--can't you talk?" + +"But I can't say, Missis Newbolt, that everybody's just azackly well," +said he. + +"Some of your folks?" + +"No, not none of mine," said Sol. + +"Then whose?" she inquired impatiently. + +"Isom's," said he. + +"You don't mean my Joe?" she asked slowly, a shadow of pain drawing her +face. + +"I mean Isom," said Sol. + +"Isom?" said she, relieved. "Why didn't Joe come after me?" Before Sol +could adjust his program to meet this unexpected exigency, she demanded: +"Well, what's the matter with Isom?" + +"Dead," said Sol, dropping his voice impressively. + +"You don't mean--well, shades of mercy, Isom dead! What was +it--cholera-morbus?" + +"Killed," said Sol; "shot down with his own gun and killed as dead as a +dornix." + +"His own gun! Well, sakes--who done it?" + +"Only one man knows," said Sol, shaking his head solemnly. "I'll tell +you how it was." + +Sol started away back at the summons to jury service, worked up to the +case in which he and Isom had sat together, followed Isom then along the +road home, and galloped to overtake him. He arrived at his gate--all in +his long and complete narrative--again, as he had done in reality the +night past; he heard the shot in Isom's house; he leaped to the ground; +he ran. He saw a light in the kitchen of Isom's house, but the door was +closed; he knocked, and somebody called to him to enter. He opened the +door and saw Isom lying there, still and bloody, money--gold money--all +over him, and a man standing there beside him. There was nobody else in +the room. + +"Shades of mercy!" she gasped. "Who was that man?" + +Sol looked at her pityingly. He put his hand to his forehead as if it +gave him pain to speak. + +"It was your Joe," said he. + +She sighed, greatly lightened and relieved. + +"Oh, then Joe he told you how it happened?" said she. + +"Ma'am," said Sol impressively, "he said they was alone in the kitchen +when it happened; he said him and Isom had some words, and Isom he +reached up to pull down the gun, and the hammer caught, and it went off +and shot him. That's what Joe told me, ma'am." + +"Well, Sol Greening, you talk like you didn't believe him!" she scorned. +"If Joe said that, it's so." + +"I hope to God it is!" said Sol, drawing a great breath. + +If Sol had looked for tears, his eyes were cheated; if he had listened +for screams, wailings, and moanings, his ears were disappointed. Sarah +Newbolt stood straight and haughtily scornful in her kitchen door, her +dark eyes bright between their snapping lids. + +"Where's Joe?" she asked sternly. + +"He's over there," said Sol, feeling that he had made a noise like a +peanut-bag which one inflates and smashes in the palm in the expectation +of startling the world. + +"Have they took him up?" + +"Well, you see, Bill Frost's kind of keepin' his eye on him till the +inquest," explained Sol. + +"Yes, and I could name the man that put him up to it," said she. + +"Well, circumstantial evidence--" began Sol. + +"Oh, circumstance your granny!" she stopped him pettishly. + +Mrs. Newbolt emptied her pan among the scrambling fowls by turning it +suddenly upside down. That done, she reached behind her and put it on +the table. Her face had grown hard and severe, and her eyes were +fierce. + +"Wouldn't believe my boy!" said she bitterly. "Are you going over that +way now?" + +"Guess I'll be ridin' along over." + +"Well, you tell Joe that I'll be there as quick as shank's horses can +carry me," she said, turning away from the door, leaving Sol to gather +what pleasure he was able out of the situation. + +She lost no time in primping and preparing, but was on the road before +Sol had gone a quarter of a mile. + +Mrs. Newbolt cut across fields, arriving at the Chase farm almost as +soon as Sol Greening did on his strawberry roan. The coroner had not +come when she got there; Bill Frost allowed Joe to come down to the +unused parlor of old Isom's house to talk with her. Frost showed a +disposition to linger within the room and hear what was said, but she +pushed him out. + +"I'll not let him run off, Bill Frost," said she. "If he'd wanted to +run, if he'd had anything to run from, he could 'a' gone last night, +couldn't he, you dunce?" + +She closed the door, and no word of what passed between mother and son +reached the outside of it, although Bill Frost strained his ear against +it, listening. + +When the coroner arrived in the middle of the forenoon he found no +difficulty in obtaining a jury to inquire into Isom's death. The major +and minor male inhabitants of the entire neighborhood were assembled +there, every qualified man of them itching to sit on the jury. As the +coroner had need of but six, and these being soon chosen, the others had +no further pleasure to look forward to save the inquiry into the +tragedy. + +After examining the wound which caused Isom's death, the coroner had +ordered the body removed from the kitchen floor. The lamp was still +burning on the table, and the coroner blew it out; the gold lay +scattered on the floor where it had fallen, and he gathered it up and +put it in the little sack. + +When the coroner went to the parlor to convene the inquest, the crowd +packed after him. Those who were not able to get into the room clustered +in a bunch at the door, and protruded themselves in at the windows, +silent and expectant. + +Joe sat with his mother on one hand, Constable Frost on the other, and +across the room was Ollie, wedged between fat Mrs. Sol Greening and her +bony daughter-in-law, who claimed the office of ministrants on the +ground of priority above all the gasping, sympathetic, and exclaiming +females who had arrived after them. + +Ollie was pale and exhausted in appearance, her face drawn and +bloodless, like that of one who wakes out of an anesthetic after a +surgical operation upon some vital part. Her eyes were hollowed, her +nostrils pinched, but there was no trace of tears upon her cheeks. The +neighbors said it was dry grief, the deepest and most lasting that racks +the human heart. They pitied her, so young and fair, so crushed and +bowed under that sudden, dark sorrow. + +Mrs. Greening had thrown something black over the young widow's +shoulders, of which she seemed unaware. It kept slipping and falling +down, revealing her white dress, and Mrs. Greening kept adjusting it +with motherly hand. Sitting bent, like an old woman, Ollie twisted and +wound her nervous hot fingers in her lap. Now and then she lifted her +eyes to Joe's, as if struggling to read what intention lay behind the +pale calm of his face. + +No wonder she looked at him wild and fearful, people said. It was more +than anybody could understand, that sudden development of fierce passion +and treachery in a boy who always had been so shy and steady. No wonder +she gazed at him that way, poor thing! + +Of course they did not dream how far they were from interpreting that +look in the young widow's eyes. There was one question in her life that +morning, and one only, it seemed. It stood in front of the future and +blocked all thought of it like a heavy door. Over and over it revolved +in her mind. It was written in fire in her aching brain. + +When they put Joe Newbolt on the witness-stand and asked him how it +happened, would he stand true to his first intention and protect her, or +would he betray it all? + +That was what troubled Ollie. She did not know, and in his face there +was no answer. + +Sol Greening was the first witness. He told again to the jury of his +neighbors the story which he had gone over a score of times that +morning. Mrs. Newbolt nodded when he related what Joe had told him, as +if to say there was no doubt about that; Joe had told her the same +thing. It was true. + +The coroner, a quick, sharp little man with a beard of unnatural +blackness, thick eyebrows and sleek hair, helped him along with a +question now and then. + +"There was nobody in the room but Joe Newbolt when you arrived?" + +"Nobody else--no livin' body," replied Sol. + +"No other living body. And Joe Newbolt was standing beside the body of +Isom Chase, near the head, you say?" + +"Yes, near Isom's head." + +"With his hat in his hand, as if he had just entered the room, or was +about to leave it?" + +Sol nodded. + +"Do you know anything about a man who had been boarding here the past +week or two?" + +The coroner seemed to ask this as an afterthought. + +"Morgan," said Sol, crossing his legs the other way for relief. "Yes, I +knowed him." + +"Did you see him here last night?" + +"No, he wasn't here. The old lady said he stopped in at our house +yesterday morning to sell me a ready-reckoner." + +Sol chuckled, perhaps over what he considered a narrow escape. + +"I was over at Shelbyville, on the jury, and I wasn't there, so he +didn't sell it. Been tryin' to for a week. He told the old lady that was +his last day here, and he was leavin' then." + +"And about what time of night was it when you heard the shot in Isom +Chase's house, and ran over?" + +"Along about first rooster-crow," said Sol. + +"And that might be about what hour?" + +"Well, I've knowed 'em to crow at 'leven this time o' year, and ag'in +I've knowed 'em to put it off as late as two. But I should judge that it +was about twelve when I come over here the first time last night." + +Sol was excused with that. He left the witness-chair with ponderous +solemnity. The coroner's stenographer had taken down his testimony, and +was now leaning back in his chair as serenely as if unconscious of his +own marvelous accomplishment of being able to write down a man's words +as fast as he could talk. + +Not so to those who beheld the feat for the first time. They watched the +young man, who was a ripe-cheeked chap with pale hair, as if they +expected to catch him in the fraud and pretense of it in the end, and +lay bare the deceit which he practised upon the world. + +The coroner was making notes of his own, stroking his black beard +thoughtfully, and in the pause between witnesses the assembled neighbors +had the pleasure of inspecting the parlor of dead Isom Chase which they +had invaded, into which, living, he never had invited them. + +Isom's first wife had arranged that room, in the hope of her young +heart, years and years ago. Its walls were papered in bridal gaiety, its +colors still bright, for the full light of day seldom fell into it as +now. There hung a picture of that bride's father, a man with shaved lip +and a forest of beard from ears to Adam's apple, in a little oval frame; +and there, across the room, was another, of her mother, Quakerish in +look, with smooth hair and a white something on her neck and bosom, held +at her throat by a portrait brooch. On the table, just under that +fast-writing young man's eyes, was a glass thing shaped like a cake +cover, protecting some flowers made of human hair, and sprigs of +bachelor's button, faded now, and losing their petals. + +There hung the marriage certificate of Isom and his first wife, framed +in tarnished gilt which was flaking from the wood, a blue ribbon through +a slit in one corner of the document, like the pendant of a seal, and +there stood the horsehair-upholstered chairs, so spare of back and thin +of shank that the rustics would stand rather than trust their corn-fed +weight upon them. Underfoot was a store-bought carpet, as full of roses +as the Elysian Fields, and over by the door lay a round, braided rag +mat, into which Isom's old wife had stitched the hunger of her heart and +the brine of her lonely tears. + +The coroner looked up from his little red-leather note-book. + +"Joe Newbolt, step over here and be sworn," said he. + +Joe crossed over to the witness-chair, picking his way through feet and +legs. As he turned, facing the coroner, his hand upraised, Ollie looked +at him steadily, her fingers fluttering and twining. + +Twelve hours had made a woeful change in her. She was as gaunt as a +suckling she-hound, an old terror lay lurking in her young eyes. For one +hour of dread is worse than a year of weeping. One may grieve, honestly +and deeply, without wearing away the cheeks or burning out the heart, +for there is a soft sorrow which lies upon the soul like a deadening +mist upon the autumn fields. But there is no worry without waste. One +day of it will burn more of the fuel of human life than a decade of +placid sorrow. + +How much would he tell? Would it be all--the story of the caress in the +kitchen door, the orchard's secret, the attempt to run away from +Isom--or would he shield her in some manner? If he should tell all, +there sat an audience ready to snatch the tale and carry it away, and +spread it abroad. Then disgrace would follow, pitiless and driving, and +Morgan was not there to bear her away from it, or to mitigate its +sting. + +Bill Frost edged over and stood behind the witness chair. His act gave +the audience a thrill. "He's under arrest!" they whispered, sending it +from ear to ear. Most of them had known it before, but there was +something so full and satisfying in the words. Not once before in years +had there been occasion to use them; it might be years again before +another opportunity presented. They had an official sound, a sound of +adventure and desperation. And so they whispered them, neighbor nodding +to neighbor in deep understanding as it went round the room, like a +pass-word in secret conclave: "He's under arrest!" + +There was nobody present to advise Joe of his rights. He had been +accused of the crime and taken into custody, yet they were calling on +him now to give evidence which might be used against him. If he had any +doubt about the legality of the proceeding, he was too certain of the +outcome of the inquiry to hesitate or demur. There was not a shadow of +doubt in his mind that his neighbors, men who had known him all his +life, and his father before him, would acquit him of all blame in the +matter and set him free. They would believe him, assuredly. Therefore, +he answered cheerfully when the coroner put the usual questions +concerning age and nativity. Then the coroner leaned back in his chair. + +"Now, Joe, tell the jury just how it happened," said he. + +The jury looked up with a little start of guilt at the coroner's +reference to itself, presenting a great deal of whiskers and shocks of +untrimmed hair, together with some reddening of the face. For the jury +had been following the movements of the coroner's stenographer, as if +it, also, expected to catch him in the trick of it that would +incriminate him and send him to the penitentiary for life. + +"I'd been down to the barn and out by the gate, looking around," said +Joe. There he paused. + +"Yes; looking around," encouraged the coroner, believing from the lad's +appearance and slow manner that he had a dull fellow in hand. "Now, what +were you looking around for, Joe?" + +"I had a kind of uneasy feeling, and I wanted to see if everything was +safe," said Joe. + +"Afraid of horse-thieves, or something like that?" + +"Something like that," nodded Joe. + +Mrs. Newbolt, sitting very straight-backed, held her lips tight, for she +was impressed with the seriousness of the occasion. Now and then she +nodded, as if confirming to herself some foregone conclusion. + +"Isom had left me in charge of the place, and I didn't want him to come +back and find anything gone," Joe explained. + +"I see," said the coroner in a friendly way. "Then what did you do?" + +"I went back to the house and lit the lamp in the kitchen," said Joe. + +"How long was that before Isom came in?" + +"Only a little while; ten or fifteen minutes, or maybe less." + +"And what did Isom say when he came in, Joe?" + +"He said he'd kill me, he was in a temper," Joe replied. + +"You had no quarrel before he said that, Isom just burst right into the +room and threatened to kill you, did he, Joe? Now, you're sure about +that?" + +"Yes, I'm perfectly sure." + +"What had you done to send Isom off into a temper that way?" + +"I hadn't done a thing," said Joe, meeting the coroner's gaze honestly. + +The coroner asked him concerning his position in the room, what he was +doing, and whether he had anything in his hands that excited Isom when +he saw it. + +"My hands were as empty as they are this minute," said Joe, but not +without a little color in his cheeks when he remembered how hot and +small Ollie's hand had felt within his own. + +"When did you first see this?" asked the coroner, holding up the sack +with the burst corner which had lain on Isom's breast. + +The ruptured corner had been tied with a string, and the sack bulged +heavily in the coroner's hand. + +"When Isom was lying on the floor after he was shot," said Joe. + +A movement of feet was audible through the room. People looked at each +other, incredulity in their eyes. The coroner returned to the incidents +which led up to the shooting snapping back to that phase of the inquiry +suddenly, as if in the expectation of catching Joe off his guard. + +"What did he threaten to kill you for?" he asked sharply. + +"Well, Isom was an unreasonable and quick-tempered man," Joe replied. + +The coroner rose to his feet in a quick start, as if he intended to leap +over the table. He pointed his finger at Joe, shaking his somber beard. + +"What did Isom Chase catch you at when he came into that kitchen?" he +asked accusingly. + +"He saw me standing there, just about to blow out the light and go to +bed," said Joe. + +"What did you and Isom quarrel about last night?" + +Joe did not reply at once. He seemed debating with himself over the +advisability of answering at all. Then he raised his slow eyes to the +coroner's face. + +"That was between him and me," said he. + +"Very well," said the coroner shortly, resuming his seat. "You may tell +the jury how Isom Chase was shot." + +Joe described Isom's leap for the gun, the struggle he had with him to +restrain him, the catching of the lock in the fork as Isom tugged at the +barrel, the shot, and Isom's death. + +When he finished, the coroner bent over his note-book again, as if +little interested and less impressed. Silence fell over the room. Then +the coroner spoke, his head still bent over the book, not even turning +his face toward the witness, his voice soft and low. + +"You were alone with Isom in the kitchen when this happened?" + +A flash of heat ran over Ollie's body. After it came a sweeping wave of +cold. The room whirled; the world stood on edge. Her hour had struck; +the last moment of her troubled security was speeding away. What would +Joe answer to that? + +"Yes," said Joe calmly, "we were alone." + +Ollie breathed again; her heart's constriction relaxed. + +The coroner wheeled on Joe. + +"Where was Mrs. Chase?" he asked. + +A little murmur, as of people drawing together with whispers; a little +soft scuffing of cautiously shifted feet on the carpet, followed the +question. Ollie shrank back, as if wincing from pain. + +"Mrs. Chase was upstairs in her room," answered Joe. + +The weight of a thousand centuries lifted from Ollie's body. Her vision +cleared. Her breath came back in measured flow to her lips, moist and +refreshing. + +He had not told. He was standing between her and the sharp tongues of +those waiting people, already licking hungrily in their awakened +suspicion, ready to sear her fair name like flames. But there was no +gratitude in her heart that moment, no quick lifting of thankfulness nor +understanding of the great peril which Joe had assumed for her. There +was only relief, blessed, easing, cool relief. He had not told. + +But the coroner was a persistent man. He was making more than an +investigation out of it; he was fairly turning it into a trial, with Joe +as the defendant. The people were ready to see that, and appreciate his +attempts to uncover the dark motive that lay behind this deed, of which +they were convinced, almost to a man, that Joe was guilty. + +"Was Isom jealous of you?" asked the coroner, beginning the assault on +Joe's reserve suddenly again when it seemed that he was through. For the +first time during the inquiry Joe's voice was unsteady when he replied. + +"He had no cause to be, and you've got no right to ask me that, either, +sir!" he said. + +"Shame on you, shame on you!" said Mrs. Newbolt, leaning toward the +coroner, shaking her head reprovingly. + +"I've got the right to ask you anything that I see fit and proper, young +man," the coroner rebuked him sternly. + +"Well, maybe you have," granted Joe, drawing himself straight in the +chair. + +"Did Isom Chase ever find you alone with his wife?" the coroner asked. + +"Now you look here, sir, if you'll ask me questions that a gentleman +ought to ask, I'll answer you like a gentleman, but I'll never answer +such questions as that!" + +There was a certain polite deference in Joe's voice, which he felt that +he owed, perhaps, to the office that the man represented, but there was +a firmness above it all that was unmistakable. + +"You refuse to answer any more questions, then?" said the coroner +slowly, and with a significance that was almost sinister. + +"I'll answer any proper questions you care to ask me," answered Joe. + +"Very well, then. You say that you and Isom quarreled last night?" + +"Yes, sir; we had a little spat." + +"A little spat," repeated the coroner, looking around the room as if to +ask the people on whose votes he depended for reelection what _they_ +thought of a "little spat" which ended in a man's death. There was a +sort of broad humor about it which appealed to the blunt rural sense. A +grin ran over their faces like a spreading wavelet on a pool. "Well now, +what was the beginning of that 'little spat'?" + +"Oh, what's that got to do with it?" asked Joe impatiently. "You asked +me that before." + +"And I'm asking you again. What was that quarrel over?" + +"None of your business!" said Joe hotly, caring nothing for consequences. + +"Then you refuse to answer, and persist in your refusal?" + +"Well, we don't seem to get on very well," said Joe. + +"No, we don't," the coroner agreed snappishly. "Stand down; that will be +all." + +The listening people shifted and relaxed, leaned and whispered, turning +quick eyes upon Joe, studying him with furtive wonder, as if they had +discovered in him some fearful and hideous thing, which he, moving among +them all his life, had kept concealed until that day. + +Ollie followed him in the witness-chair. She related her story, framed +on the cue that she had taken from Greening's testimony and Joe's +substantiation of it, in low, trembling voice, and with eyes downcast. +She knew nothing about the tragedy until Sol called up to her, she said, +and then she was in ignorance of what had happened. Mrs. Greening had +told her when she came that Isom was killed. + +Ollie was asked about the book-agent boarder, as Greening had been +asked. Morgan had left on the morning of the fateful day, she said, +having finished his work in that part of the country. She and Joe were +alone in the house that night. + +The coroner spared her, no matter how far his sharp suspicions flashed +into the obscurity of the relations between herself and the young +bondman. The people, especially the women, approved his leniency with +nods. Her testimony concluded the inquiry, and the coroner addressed the +jury. + +"Gentlemen," he said, "you will take into consideration the evidence you +have heard, and determine, if possible, the manner in which Isom Chase +came to his death, and fix the responsibility for the same. It is within +your power to recommend that any person believed by you to be directly +or indirectly responsible for his death, be held to the grand jury for +further investigation. Gentlemen, you will now view the body." + +Alive, Isom Chase had walked in the secret derision and contempt of his +neighbors, despised for his parsimony, ridiculed for his manner of life. +Dead, he had become an object of awe which they approached softly and +with fear. + +Isom lay upon his own cellar door, taken down from its hinges to make +him a couch. It stood over against the kitchen wall, a chair supporting +it at either end, and Isom stretched upon it covered over with a sheet. +The coroner drew back the covering, revealing the face of the dead, and +the jurymen, hats in hand, looked over each other's shoulders and then +backed away. + +For Isom was no handsomer as a corpse than he had been as a living, +striving man. The hard, worn iron of his frame was there, like an old +plowshare, useless now, no matter what furrows it had turned in its day. +The harsh speech was gone out of his crabbed lips, but the scowl which +delinquent debtors feared stood frozen upon his brow. He had died with +gold above his heart, as he had lived with the thought of that bright +metal crowding every human sentiment out of it, and the mystery of those +glittering pieces under his dead hand was unexplained. + +Somebody, it appeared, had sinned against old Isom Chase at the end, and +Joe Newbolt knew who that person was. Here he had stood before them all +and lifted up a wall of stubborn silence to shield the guilty head, and +there was no doubt that it was his own. + +That also was the opinion of the coroner's jury, which walked out from +its deliberations in the kitchen in a little while and gave as its +verdict that Isom Chase had come to his death by a gunshot wound, +inflicted at the hands of Joseph Newbolt. The jury recommended that the +accused be held to the grand jury, for indictment or dismissal. + +Mrs. Newbolt did not understand fully what was going forward, but she +gathered that the verdict of the neighbors was unfriendly to Joe. She +sat looking from the coroner to Joe, from Joe to the jurors, lined up +with backs against the wall, as solemn and nervous as if waiting for a +firing squad to appear and take aim at their patriotic breasts. She +stood up in her bewilderment, and looked with puzzled, dazed expression +around the room. + +"Joe didn't do it, if that's what you mean," said she. + +"Madam--" began the coroner severely. + +"Yes, you little whiffet," she burst out sharply, "you're the one that +put 'em up to do it! Joe didn't do it, I tell you, and you men know that +as well as I do. Every one of you has knowed him all his life!" + +"Madam, I must ask you not to interrupt the proceedings," said the +coroner. + +"Order in the court!" commanded the constable in his deepest official +voice. + +"Oh, shut your fool mouth, Bill Frost!" said Mrs. Newbolt scornfully. + +"Never mind, Mother," counseled Joe. "I'll be all right. They have to do +what they're doing, I suppose." + +"Yes, they're doin' what that little snip-snapper with them colored +whiskers tells 'em to do!" said she. + +Solemn as the occasion was, a grin went round at the bald reference to a +plainer fact. Even the dullest there had seen the grayish-red at the +roots of the coroner's beard. The coroner grew very red of face, and +gave some orders to his stenographer, who wrote them down. He thanked +the jurors and dismissed them. Bill Frost began to prepare for the +journey to Shelbyville to turn Joe over to the sheriff. + +The first, and most important, thing in the list of preliminaries for +the journey, was the proper adjustment of Bill's mustache. Bill roached +it up with a turn of the forefinger, using the back of it, which was +rough, like a corn-cob. When he had got the ends elevated at a valiant +angle, his hat firmly settled upon his head, and his suspenders +tightened two inches, he touched Joe's shoulder. + +"Come on!" he ordered as gruffly and formally as he could draw his edged +voice. + +Joe stood, and Bill put his hand on his arm to pilot him, in all +officiousness, out of the room. Mrs. Newbolt stepped in front of them as +they approached. + +"Joe!" she cried appealingly. + +"That's all right, Mother," he comforted her, "everything will be +cleared up and settled in a day or two. You go on home now, Mother, and +look after things till I come." + +"Step out of the way, step out of the way!" said Bill with spreading +impatience. + +Mrs. Newbolt looked at the blustering official pityingly. + +"Bill Frost, you ain't got as much sense as you was born with!" said +she. She patted Joe's shoulder, which was as near an approach to +tenderness as he ever remembered her to make. + +Constable Frost fell into consultation with his adjutant, Sol Greening, +as soon as he cleared the room with the prisoner. They discussed gravely +in the prisoner's hearing, for Bill kept his hand on Joe's arm all the +time, the advisability of tying him securely with a rope before starting +on the journey to jail. + +Joe grew indignant over this base proposal. He declared that if Bill was +afraid of him he would go alone to the county-seat and give himself up +to the sheriff if they would set him free. Bill was a little assured by +his prisoner's evident sincerity. + +Another consultation brought them to the agreement that the best they +could do, in the absence of handcuffs, was to hitch up to Isom's buggy +and make the prisoner drive. With hands employed on the lines, he could +be watched narrowly by Bill who was to take Sol's old navy six along in +his mighty hand. + +Mrs. Newbolt viewed the officious constable's preparations for the +journey with many expressions of anger and disdain. + +"Just look at that old fool, Bill Frost, with that revolver!" said she, +turning to the neighbors, who stood silently watching. "Just as if Joe +would hurt anybody, or try to run away!" + +Sympathy seemed to be lacking in the crowd. Everybody was against Joe, +that was attested by the glum faces and silence which met her on every +hand. She was amazed at their stupidity. There they stood, people who +had seen Joe grow up, people who knew that a Newbolt would give his last +cent and go hungry to meet an obligation; that he would wear rags to pay +his debts, as Peter had done, as Joe was doing after him; that he would +work and strive night and day to keep fair his honorable name, and to +preserve the honest record of the family clear and clean. + +They all knew that, and they knew that a Newbolt never lied, but they +hunched their backs and turned away their heads as if they thought a +body was going to hit them when she spoke. It disgusted her; she felt +like she could turn loose on some of them with their own records, which +she had from a generation back. + +She approached the buggy as Joe took up the lines and prepared to drive +out of the gate. + +"I don't see why they think you done it, son, it's so unreasonable and +unneighborly of them," said she. + +"Neighborly!" said Joe, with sudden bitterness in his young voice. "What +am I to them but 'the pore folks' boy'? They didn't believe me, Mother, +but when I get a chance to stand up before Judge Maxwell over at +Shelbyville, I'll be talking to a gentleman. A gentleman will +understand." + +That sounded like his father, she thought. It moved her with a feeling +of the pride which she had reflected feebly for so many years. + +"I hope so, son," said she. "If you're not back in a day or two, I'll be +over to Shelbyville." + +"Drive on, drive on!" ordered Bill, the old black revolver in his hand. + +The crowd was impressed by that weapon, knowing its history, as +everybody did. Greening's more or less honorable father had carried it +with him when he rode in the train of Quantrell, the infamous +bushwhacker. It was the old man's boast to his dying day that he had +exterminated a family of father and five sons in the raid upon Lawrence +with that old weapon, without recharging it. + +Joe drove through the open gate without a look behind him. His face was +pale, his heart was sick with the humiliation of that day. But he felt +that it was only a temporary cloud into which he had stepped, and that +clearing would come again in a little while. It was inconceivable to him +how anybody could be so foolish as to believe, or even suspect, that he +had murdered Isom Chase. + +The assembled people having heard all there was to hear, and seen all +there was to see at the gate, began to straggle back to the farmhouse to +gossip, to gape, and exclaim. To Greening and his family had fallen the +office of comforting the widow and arranging for the burial, and now Sol +had many offers to sit up with the corpse that night. + +Mrs. Newbolt stood at the roadside, looking after the conveyance which +was taking her son away to jail, until a bend behind a tall hedge hid it +from her eyes. She made no further attempt to find sympathy or support +among her neighbors, who looked at her curiously as she stood there, and +turned away selfishly when she faced them. + +Back over the road that she had hurried along that morning she trudged, +slowly and without spirit, her feet like stones. As she went, she tried +to arrange the day's happenings in her mind. All was confusion there. +The one plain thing, the thing that persisted and obtruded, was that +they had arrested Joe on a charge that was at once hideous and unjust. + +Evening was falling when she reached the turn of the road and looked +ahead to her home. She had no heart for supper, no heart to lift the +latch of the kitchen door and enter there. There was no desire in her +heart but for her son, and no comfort in the prospect of her oncoming +night. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE SEALED ENVELOPE + + +In the light of Joe's reluctant testimony and his strange, stubborn, and +stiff-necked refusal to go into the matter of the quarrel between +himself and Isom; the unexplained mystery of the money which had been +found in the burst bag on Isom's breast; and Joe's declaration that he +had not seen it until Isom fell: in the light of all this, the people of +that community believed the verdict of the coroner's jury to be just. + +This refusal of Joe's to talk out and explain everything was a display +of the threadbare Newbolt dignity, people said, an exhibition of which +they had not seen since old Peter's death. But it looked more like +bull-headedness to them. + +"Don't the darned fool know he's pokin' his head under the gallus?" they +asked. + +What was the trouble between him and Isom about? What was he doin' there +in the kitchen with the lamp lit that hour of the night? Where did that +there money come from, gentlemen? That's what I want you to tell _me_! + +Those were the questions which were being asked, man to man, group to +group, and which nobody could answer, as they stood discussing it after +Joe had been taken away to jail. The coroner mingled with them, giving +them the weight of his experience. + +"That Newbolt's deeper than he looks on the outside, gentlemen," he +said, shaking his serious whiskers. "There's a lot more behind this case +than we can see. Old Isom Chase was murdered, and that murder was +planned away ahead. It's been a long time since I've seen anybody on the +witness-stand as shrewd and sharp as that Newbolt boy. He knew just what +to so say and just what to shut his jaws on. But we'll fetch it out of +him--or somebody else." + +As men went home to take up their neglected tasks, they talked it all +over. They wondered what Joe would have done with that money if he had +succeeded in getting away with it; whether he would have made it out of +the country, or whether the invincible Bill Frost, keen on his scent as +a fox-hound, would have pursued him and brought him back. + +They wondered how high they built the gallows to hang a man, and +discussed the probability of the event being public. They speculated on +the manner in which Joe would go to his death, whether boldly, with his +head up that way, or cringing and afraid, his proud heart and spirit +broken, and whether he would confess at the end or carry his secret with +him to the grave. Then they branched off into discussions of the pain of +hanging, and wondered whether it was a "more horribler" death than +drowning or burning in a haystack, or from eating pounded glass. + +It was a great, moving, awakening sensation in the countryside, that +taking off of Isom Chase by a mysterious midnight shot. It pulled people +up out of the drowse of a generation, and set them talking as they had +not talked in twenty years. Their sluggish brains were heated by it, +their sleeping hearts quickened. + +People were of the undivided opinion that Isom had caught Joe robbing +him, and that Joe had shot him in the fear of punishment for the theft. +Perhaps it is because chivalry is such a rare quality among the business +activities of this life, that none of them believed he was shielding +Isom's wife, and that he was innocent of any wrong himself. They did not +approve the attempt of the coroner to drag her into it. The shrewd +insight of the little man cost him a good many votes that day. + +Joe Newbolt could very well be a robber, they said, for all his life had +prepared him for a fall before the temptation of money. He could very +well be a robber, indeed, and there was no room for him to turn out +anything nobler, for wasn't he the pore folks' boy? + +Ollie was almost as short in her realization of what Joe had done for +her as those who knew nothing at all of his motive of silence. In the +relief of her escape from public disclosure of her intrigue with Morgan, +she enjoyed a luxurious relaxation. It was like sleep after long +watching. + +She did not understand the peril in which Joe stood on her account, nor +consider that the future still held for both of them a trial which would +test Joe's strength as the corrosive tooth of acid challenges the purity +of gold. It was enough for her that sunny afternoon, and sufficient to +her shallow soul, to know that she was safe. She lay warm and restful in +her bed while the neighbor women set the house to rights, and the men +moved Isom's body into the parlor to wait for the coffin which Sol +Greening had gone after to the county-seat. + +Ollie watched the little warm white clouds against the blue of the +October sky, and thought of the fleecy soft things which a mother loves +to swaddle her baby in; she watched the shadow of falling leaves upon +the floor, blowing past her window on the slant sunbeams. + +She was safe! + +Joe was accused, but she seemed to hold that a trivial incident in an +exciting day. It would pass; he would clear himself, as he deserved to +be cleared, and then, when Morgan came back for her and carried her away +into his world, everything would be in tune. + +Perhaps it was because she knew that Joe was innocent that his +accusation appeared so untenable and trivial to her. At any rate, the +lawyers over at Shelbyville--wasn't their cunning known around the +world--could get him off. If it came to that, she would see that he had +a good one, as good as money could employ. Joe had stood by her; she +would stand by Joe. That was the extent of her concern that afternoon. + +It was pleasant to stretch there in peace, with no task before her, no +rude summons to arise and work. Isom would call her no more at dawn; his +voice would be silent in that house forever more. There was no regret in +the thought, no pang, no pain. + +As one lives his life, so he must be pitied in death. Soft deeds +father soft memories. There never was but one man who rose with the +recollection of pleasant dreams from pillowing his head upon a stone, +and that man was under the hand of God. Isom Chase had planted +bitterness; his memory was gall. + +She was safe, and she was free. She had come into her expectations; the +pre-nuptial dreams of enjoying Isom Chase's wealth were suddenly at +hand. + +Together with the old rifle and Isom's blood-stained garments, the +coroner had taken away the little bag of gold, to be used as evidence, +he said. He had taken the money, just as it was in the little sack, a +smear of blood on it, after counting it before witnesses and giving her +a receipt for the amount. Two thousand dollars; one hundred pieces of +twenty dollars each. That was the tale of the contents of the canvas bag +which had lain grinning on Isom's pulseless heart. It was not a great +amount of money, considering Isom's faculty for gaining and holding it. +It was the general belief that he had ten, twenty, times that amount, +besides his loans, hidden away, and the secret of his hiding-place had +gone out of the world with Isom. + +Others said that he had put his money into lands, pointing to the many +farms which he owned and rented in the county. But be that as it might, +there was Ollie, young and handsome, well paid for her hard year as +Isom's wife, free now, and doubtless already willing at heart to make +some young man happy. Nobody blamed her for that. + +It was well known that Isom had abused her, that her life had been +cheerless and lonely under his roof. Those who did not know it from +first-hand facts believed it on the general notoriety of the man. +Contact with Isom Chase had been like sleeping on a corn-husk bed; there +was no comfort in it, no matter which way one turned. + +Ollie, her eyes closed languidly, now languidly opened to follow the +track of the lamb-fleece clouds, her young body feeling warm and +pleasant, as if lately released from a sorely cramped state; Ollie, with +little fleeting dreams in her pretty, shallow head, was believed by the +women of the neighborhood to be in the way of realizing on Isom's +expectations of an heir. It was a little fiction that had taken its +beginning from Sol Greening's early talk, and owing to that rumor the +coroner had been gentle with her beyond the inclination of his heart. + +The young widow smiled as she lay on her pillow and thought of the +little intimate touches of tenderness which this baseless rumor had made +her the beneficiary of at her neighbor's hands. She was selfish enough +to take advantage of their mistaken kindnesses and to surrender to their +vigorous elbows the work below stairs. That was her day of freedom; it +was her dawn of peace. + +It was pleasant to have come through stress and hardship to this restful +eddy in the storm of life; to have faced peril and disgrace and come +away still clean in the eyes of men. Ollie was content with things as +they were, as the evening shadows closed the door upon the events of +that trying day. + +Quite different was the case of Sarah Newbolt, once more back in her +poor shelter, nested in bramble and clambering vine. She was dazed, the +song was gone out of her heart. She was bereaved, and her lips were +moving in endless repetition of supplication to the Almighty for the +safety and restoration of her son. + +What was this grim thing of which they had accused her Joe? She could +not yet get to the bottom of it, she could not understand how men could +be so warped and blind. Why, Joe had told them how it happened, he had +explained it as clear as well water, but they didn't believe him. She +went out and sat on the porch to think it out, if possible, and come to +some way of helping Joe. There was not a friend to turn to, not a +counselor to lean upon. + +She never had felt it lonely in the old place before, for there was +companionship even in the memory of her dead, but this evening as she +sat on the porch, the familiar objects in the yard growing dim through +the oncoming night, the hollowness of desolation was there. Joe was in +prison. The neighbors had refused to believe the word of her boy. There +was nobody to help him but her. The hand of everybody else was against +him. She had delivered him into bondage and brought this trouble to him, +and now she must stir herself to set him free. + +"It's all my own doin's," said she in unsparing reproach. "My chickens +has come to roost." + +After nightfall she went into the kitchen where she sat a dreary while +before her stove, leaning forward in her unlovely, ruminating pose. +Through the open draft of the stove the red coals within it glowed, +casting three little bars of light upon the floor. Now and then a stick +burned in two and settled down, showering sparks through the grate. +These little flashes lit up her brown and somber face, and discovered +the slow tears upon her weathered cheeks. For a long time she sat thus, +then at last she lifted her head and looked around the room. Her table +stood as she had left it in the morning, no food had passed her lips +since then. But the frantic turmoil of the first hours after Joe had +been led away to jail had quieted. + +A plan of action had shaped itself in her mind. In the morning she would +go to Shelbyville and seek her husband's old friend, Colonel Henry +Price, to solicit his advice and assistance. In a manner comforted by +this resolution, she prepared herself a pot of coffee and some food. +After the loneliest and most hopeless meal that she ever had eaten in +her life, she went to bed. + +In the house of Isom Chase, where neighbors sat to watch the night out +beside the shrouded body, there was a waste of oil in many lamps, such +an illumination that it seemed a wonder that old Isom did not rise up +from his gory bed to turn down the wicks and speak reproof. Everybody +must have a light. If an errand for the living or a service for the dead +called one from this room to that, there must be a light. That was a +place of tragic mystery, a place of violence and death. If light had +been lacking there on the deeds of Isom Chase, on his hoardings and +hidings away; on the hour of his death and the mystery of it, then all +this must be balanced tonight by gleams in every window, beams through +every crevice; lamps here, lanterns there, candles in cupboards, cellar, +and nook. + +Let there be light in the house of Isom Chase, and in the sharp +espionage of curious eyes, for dark days hang over it, and the young +widow who draws the pity of all because she cannot weep. + +No matter how hard a woman's life with a man has been, when he dies she +is expected to mourn. That was the standard of fealty and respect in the +neighborhood of Isom Chase, as it is in more enlightened communities in +other parts of the world. A woman should weep for her man, no matter +what bruises on body his heavy hand may leave behind him, or what scars +in the heart which no storm of tears can wash away. Custom has made +hypocrites of the ladies in this matter the wide world through. Let no +man, therefore, lying bloodless and repellent upon his cooling-board, +gather comfort to his cold heart when his widow's tears fall upon his +face. For she may be weeping more for what might have been than was. + +Isom Chase's widow could not weep at all. That was what they said of +her, and their pity was more tender, their compassion more sweet. Dry +grief, they said. And that is grief like a covered fire, which smolders +in the heart and chars the foundations of life. She ought to be crying, +to clear her mind and purge herself of the dregs of sorrow, which would +settle and corrode unless flushed out by tears; she ought to get rid of +it at once, like any other widow, and settle down to the enjoyment of +all the property. + +The women around Ollie in her room tried to provoke her tears by +reference to Isom's good qualities, his widely known honesty, his +ceaseless striving to lay up property which he knew he couldn't take +with him, which he realized that his young wife would live long years +after him to enjoy. They glozed his faults and made virtues out of his +close-grained traits; they praised and lamented, with sighs and mournful +words, but Isom's widow could not weep. + +Ollie wished they would go away and let her sleep. She longed for them +to put out the lamps and let the moonlight come in through the window +and whiten on the floor, and bring her soft thoughts of Morgan. She +chafed under their chatter, and despised them for their shallow +pretense. There was not one of them who had respected Isom in life, but +now they sat there, a solemn conclave, great-breasted sucklers of the +sons of men, and insisted that she, his unloved, his driven, abused and +belabored wife, weep tears for his going, for which, in her heart, she +was glad. + +It was well that they could not see her face, turned into the shadow, +nestled against the pillow, moved now and then as by the zephyr breath +of a smile. At times she wanted to laugh at their pretense and humbug. +To prevent it breaking out in unseemly sound she was obliged to bite the +coverlet and let the spasms of mirth waste themselves in her body and +limbs. + +When the good women beheld these contractions they looked at each other +meaningly and shook dolefully wise heads. Dry grief. Already it was +laying deep hold on her, racking her like ague. She would waste under +the curse of it, and follow Isom to the grave in a little while, if she +could not soon be moved to weep. + +Ollie did not want to appear unneighborly nor unkind, but as the night +wore heavily on she at last requested them to leave her. + +"You are all so good and kind!" said she, sincere for the moment, for +there was no mistaking that they meant to be. "But I think if you'd take +the lamp out of the room I could go to sleep. If I need you, I'll +call." + +"Now, that's just what you do, deary," said red-faced Mrs. Greening, +patting her head comfortingly. + +The women retired to the spare bedroom where Joe had slept the night +before, and from there their low voices came to Ollie through the open +door. She got up and closed it gently, and ran up the window-blind and +opened the window-sash, letting in the wind, standing there a little +while drawing her gown aside, for the touch of it on her hot breast. She +remembered the day that Joe had seen her so, the churn-dasher in her +hand; the recollection of what was pictured in his face provoked a +smile. + +There was a mist before the moon like a blowing veil, presaging rain +tomorrow, the day of the funeral. It was well known in that part of the +country that rain on a coffin a certain sign that another of that family +would die within a year. Ollie hoped that it would not rain. She was not +ready to die within a year, nor many years. Her desire to live was large +and deep. She had won the right, Isom had compensated in part for the +evil he had done her in leaving behind him all that was necessary to +make the journey pleasant. + +As she turned into her bed again and composed herself for sleep, she +thought of Joe, with a feeling of tenderness. She recalled again what +Isom had proudly told her of the lad's blood and breeding, and she +understood dimly now that there was something extraordinary in Joe's +manner of shielding her to his own disgrace and hurt. A common man would +not have done that, she knew. + +She wondered if Morgan would have done it, if he had been called upon, +but the yea or the nay of it did not trouble her. Morgan was secure in +her heart without sacrifice. + +Well, tomorrow they would bury Isom, and that would end it. Joe would be +set free then, she thought, the future would be clear. So reasoning, she +went to sleep in peace. + +Ollie's habit of early rising during the past year of her busy life made +it impossible for her to sleep after daylight. For a while after waking +next morning she lay enjoying that new phase of her enfranchisement. +From that day forward there would be no need of rising with the dawn. +Time was her own now; she could stretch like a lady who has servants to +bring and take away, until the sun came into her chamber, if she +choose. + +Downstairs there were dim sounds of people moving about, and the odors +of breakfast were rising. Thinking that it would be well, for the sake +of appearances, to go down and assist them, she got up and dressed. + +She stopped before the glass to try her hair in a new arrangement, it +was such bright hair, she thought, for mourning, but yet as somber as +her heart, bringing it a little lower on the brow, in a sweep from the +point of parting. The effect was somewhat frivolous for a season of +mourning, and she would have to pass through one, she sighed. After a +while, when she went out into Morgan's world of laughter and chatter and +fine things. She smiled, patting her lively tresses back into their +accustomed place. + +Ollie was vain of her prettiness, as any woman is, only in her case +there was no soul beneath it to give it ballast. Her beauty was pretty +much surface comeliness, and it was all there was of her, like a great +singer who sometimes is nothing but a voice. + +Sol Greening was in the kitchen with his wife and his son's wife and two +of the more distant neighbor women who had remained overnight. The other +men who had watched with Sol around Isom's bier had gone off to dig a +grave for the dead, after the neighborly custom there. As quick as her +thought, Ollie's eyes sought the spot where Isom's blood had stood in +the worn plank beside the table. The stain was gone. She drew her breath +with freedom, seeing it so, yet wondering how they had done it, for she +had heard all her life that the stain of human blood upon a floor could +not be scoured away. + +"We was just gettin' a bite of breakfast together," said Mrs. Greening, +her red face shining, and brighter for its big, friendly smile. + +"I was afraid you might not be able to find everything," explained +Ollie, "and so I came down." + +"No need for you to do that, bless your heart!" Mrs. Greening said. "But +we was just talkin' of callin' you. Sol, he run across something last +night that we thought you might want to see as soon as you could." + +Ollie looked from one to the other of them with a question in her eyes. + +"Something--something of mine?" she asked. + +Mrs. Greening nodded. + +"Something Isom left. Fetch it to her, Sol." + +Sol disappeared into the dread parlor where Isom lay, and came back with +a large envelope tied about with a blue string, and sealed at the back +with wax over the knotted cord. + +"It's Isom's will," said Sol, giving it to Ollie. "When we was makin' +room to fetch in the coffin and lay Isom out in it last night, we had to +move the center table, and the drawer fell out of it. This paper was in +there along with a bundle of old tax receipts. As soon as we seen what +was on it, we decided it orto be put in your hands as soon as you woke +up." + +"I didn't know he had a will," said Ollie, turning the envelope in her +hands, not knowing what to make of it, or what to do with it, at all. + +"Read what's on the in-vellup," advised Sol, standing by importantly, +his hands on his hips, his big legs spread out. + +Outside the sun was shining, tenderly yellow like a new plant. Ollie +marked it with a lifting of relief. There would be no rain on the +coffin. It was light enough to read the writing on the envelope where +she stood, but she moved over to the window, wondering on the way. + +What was a will for but to leave property, and what need had Isom for +making one? + +It was an old envelope, its edges browned by time, and the ink upon it +was gray. + + My last Will and Testament. Isom Chase. + + N. B.--To be opened by John B. Little, in case he is living at the + time of my death. If he is not, then this is to be filed by the + finder, unopened, in the probate court. + +That was the superscription in Isom's writing, correctly spelled, +correctly punctuated, after his precise way in all business affairs. + +"Who is John B. Little?" asked Ollie, her heart seeming to grow small, +shrinking from some undefined dread. + +"He's Judge Little, of the county court now," said Sol. "I'll go over +after him, if you say so." + +"After breakfast will do," said Ollie. + +She put the envelope on the shelf beside the clock, as if it did not +concern her greatly. Yet, under her placid surface she was deeply moved. +What need had Isom for making a will? + +"It saves a lot of lawin' and wastin' money on costs," said Sol, as if +reading her mind and making answer to her thought. "You'll have a right +smart of property on your hands to look after for a young girl like +you." + +Of course, to her. Who else was there for him to will his property to? A +right smart, indeed. Sol's words were wise; they quieted her sudden, +sharp pain of fear. + +Judge Little lived less than a mile away. Before nine o'clock he was +there, his black coat down to his knees, for he was a short man and +bowed of the legs, his long ends of hair combed over his bald crown. + +The judge was at that state of shrinkage when the veins can be counted +in the hands of a thin man of his kind. His smoothly shaved face was +purple from congestion, the bald place on his small head was red. He was +a man who walked about as if wrapped in meditation, and on him rested a +notarial air. His arms were almost as long as his legs, his hands were +extremely large, lending the impression that they had belonged +originally to another and larger man, and that Judge Little must have +become possessed of them by some process of delinquency against a +debtor. As he walked along his way those immense hands hovered near the +skirts of his long coat, the fingers bent, as if to lay hold of that +impressive garment and part it. This, together with the judge's +meditative appearance, lent him the aspect of always being on the point +of sitting down. + +"Well, well," said he, sliding his spectacles down his nose to get the +reading focus, advancing the sealed envelope, drawing it away again, "so +Isom left a will? Not surprising, not surprising. Isom was a careful +man, a man of business. I suppose we might as well proceed to open the +document?" + +The judge was sitting with his thin legs crossed. They hung as close and +limp as empty trousers. Around the room he roved his eyes, red, watery, +plagued by dust and wind. Greening was there, and his wife. The +daughter-in-law had gone home to get ready for the funeral. The other +two neighbor women reposed easily on the kitchen chairs, arms tightly +folded, backs against the wall. + +"You, Mrs. Chase, being the only living person who is likely to have an +interest in the will as legatee, are fully aware of the circumstances +under which it was found, and so forth and so forth?" + +Ollie nodded. There was something in her throat, dry and impeding. She +felt that she could not speak. + +Judge Little took the envelope by the end, holding it up to the light. +He took out his jack-knife and cut the cord. + +It was a thin paper that he drew forth, and with little writing on it. +Soon Judge Little had made himself master of its contents, with an +_Um-m-m_, as he started, and with an _A-h-h_! when he concluded, and a +sucking-in of his thin cheeks. + +He looked around again, a new brightness in his eyes. But he said +nothing. He merely handed the paper to Ollie. + +"Read it out loud," she requested, giving it back. + +Judge Little fiddled with his glasses again. Then he adjusted the paper +before his eyes like a target, and read: + + I hereby will and bequeath to my beloved son, Isom Walker Chase, all + of my property, personal and real; and I hereby appoint my friend, + John B. Little, administrator of my estate, to serve without bond, + until my son shall attain his majority, in case that I should die + before that time. This is my last will, and I am in sound mind and + bodily health. + +That was all. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +LET HIM HANG + + +The will was duly signed and witnessed, and bore a notarial seal. It was +dated in the hand of the testator, in addition to the acknowledgment of +the notary, all regular, and unquestionably done. + +"His son!" said Sol, amazed, looking around with big eyes. "Why, Isom he +never had no son!" + +"Do we know that?" asked Judge Little, as if to raise the question of +reasonable doubt. + +Son or no son, until that point should be determined he would have the +administration of the estate, with large and comfortable fees. + +"Well, I've lived right there acrost the road from him all my life, and +all of his, too; and I reckon I'd purty near know if anybody knowed!" +declared Sol. "I went to school with Isom, I was one of the little +fellers when he was a big one, and I was at his weddin'. My wife she +laid out his first wife, and I dug her grave. She never had no children, +judge; you know that as well as anybody." + +Judge Little coughed dryly, thoughtfully, his customary aspect of deep +meditation more impressive than ever. + +"Sometimes the people we believe we know best turn out to be the ones we +know least," said he. "Maybe we knew only one side of Isom's life. Every +man has his secrets." + +"You mean to say there was another woman somewheres?" asked Sol, taking +the scent avidly. + +The women against the wall joined Mrs. Greening in a virtuous, +scandalized groan. They looked pityingly at Ollie, sitting straight and +white in her chair. She did not appear to see them; she was looking at +Judge Little with fixed, frightened stare. + +"That is not for me to say," answered the judge; and his manner of +saying it seemed to convey the hint that he _could_ throw light on +Isom's past if he should unseal his lips. + +Ollie took it to be that way. She recalled the words of the will, "My +friend, John B. Little." Isom had never spoken in her hearing that way +of any man. Perhaps there was some bond between the two men, reaching +back to the escapades of youth, and maybe Judge Little had the rusty old +key to some past romance in Isom's life. + +"Laws of mercy!" said Mrs. Greening, freeing a sigh of indignation which +surely must have burst her if it had been repressed. + +"This document is dated almost thirty years ago," said the judge. "It is +possible that Isom left a later will. We must make a search of the +premises to determine that." + +"In sixty-seven he wrote it," said Sol, "and that was the year he was +married. The certificate's hangin' in there on the wall. Before that, +Isom he went off to St. Louis to business college a year or two and got +all of his learnin' and smart ways. I might 'a' went, too, just as well +as not. Always wisht I had." + +"Very true, very true," nodded Judge Little, as if to say: "You're on +the trail of his iniquities now, Sol." + +Sol's mouth gaped like an old-fashioned corn-planter as he looked from +the judge to Mrs. Greening, from Mrs. Greening to Ollie. Sol believed +the true light of the situation had reached his brain. + +"Walker--Isom Walker Chase! No Walkers around in this part of the +country to name a boy after--never was." + +"His mother was a Walker, from Ellinoi, dunce!" corrected his wife. + +"Oh!" said Sol, his scandalous case collapsing about him as quickly as +it had puffed up. "I forgot about her." + +"Don't you worry about that will, honey," advised Mrs. Greening, going +to Ollie and putting her large freckled arm around the young woman's +shoulders; "for it won't amount to shucks! Isom never had a son, and +even if he did by some woman he wasn't married to, how's he goin' to +prove he's the feller?" + +Nobody attempted to answer her, and Mrs. Greening accepted that as proof +that her argument was indubitable. + +"It--can't--be--true!" said Ollie. + +"Well, it gits the best of me!" sighed Greening, shaking his uncombed +head. "Isom he was too much of a business man to go and try to play off +a joke like that on anybody." + +"After the funeral I would advise a thorough search among Isom's papers +in the chance of finding another and later will than this," said Judge +Little. "And in the meantime, as a legal precaution, merely as a legal +precaution and formality, Mrs. Chase----" + +The judge stopped, looking at Ollie from beneath the rims of his specs, +as if waiting for her permission to proceed. Ollie, understanding +nothing at all of what was in his mind, but feeling that it was required +of her, nodded. That seemed the signal for which he waited. He +proceeded: + +"As a legal formality, Mrs. Chase, I will proceed to file this document +for probate this afternoon." + +Judge Little put it in his pocket, reaching down into that deep +depository until his long arm was engulfed to the elbow. That pocket +must have run down to the hem of his garment, like the oil on Aaron's +beard. + +Ollie got up. Mrs. Greening hastened to her to offer the support of her +motherly arm. + +"I think I'll go upstairs," said the young widow. + +"Yes, you do," counseled Mrs. Greening. "They'll be along with the +wagons purty soon, and we'll have to git ready to go. I think they must +have the grave done by now." + +The women watched Ollie as she went uncertainly to the stairs and +faltered as she climbed upward, shaking their heads forebodingly. Sol +and Judge Little went outside together and stood talking by the door. + +"Ain't it terrible!" said one woman. + +"Scan'lous!" agreed the other. + +Mrs. Greening shook her fist toward the parlor. + +"Old sneaky, slinkin', miserly Isom!" she denounced. "I always felt that +he was the kind of a man to do a trick like that. Shootin' was too good +for him--he orto been hung!" + +In her room upstairs Ollie, while entirely unaware of Mrs. Greening's +vehement arraignment of Isom, bitterly indorsed it in her heart. She sat +on her tossed bed, the sickness of disappointment heavy over her. An +hour ago wealth was in her hand, ease was before her, and the future was +secure. Now all was torn down and scattered by an old yellow paper which +prying, curious, meddlesome old Sol Greening had found. She bent her +head upon her hand; tears trickled between her fingers. + +Perhaps Isom had a son, unknown to anybody there. There was that period +out of his life when he was at business college in St. Louis. No one +knew what had taken place in that time. Perhaps he had a son. If so, +they would oust her, turn her out as poor as she came, with the memory +of that hard year of servitude in her heart and nothing to compensate +for it, not even a tender recollection. How much better if Joe had not +come between her and Curtis Morgan that night--what night, how long ago +was it now?--how much kinder and happier for her indeed? + +With the thought of what Joe had caused of wreckage in her life by his +meddling, her resentment rose against him. But for him, slow-mouthed, +cold-hearted lout, she would have been safe and happy with Morgan that +hour. Old Isom would have been living still, going about his sordid ways +as before she came, and the need of his money would have been removed +out of her life forever. + +Joe was at the bottom of all this--spying, prying, meddling Joe. Let him +suffer for it now, said she. If he had kept out of things which he did +not understand, the fool! Now let him suffer! Let him hang, if he must +hang, as she had heard the women say last night he should. No act of +hers, no word---- + +"The wagons is coming, honey," said Mrs. Greening at her door. "We must +git ready to go to the graveyard now." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +PETER'S SON + + +Mint grew under the peach-trees in Colonel Henry Price's garden, +purple-stemmed mint, with dark-green, tender leaves. It was not the +equal of the mint, so the colonel contended with provincial loyalty, +which grew back in Kentucky along the clear, cool mountain streams. But, +picked early in the morning with the dew on it, and then placed +bouquet-wise in a bowl of fresh well-water, to stand thus until needed, +it made a very competent substitute for the Kentucky herb. + +In that cool autumn weather mint was at its best, and Colonel Price +lamented, as he gathered it that morning, elbow-deep in its dewy +fragrance, that the need of it was passing with the last blaze of +October days. + +Yet it was comforting to consider how well-balanced the seasons and +men's appetites were. With the passing of the season for mint, the +desire for it left the palate. Frosty mornings called for the comfort of +hot toddy, wintry blasts for frothing egg-nog in the cup. Man thirsted +and nature satisfied; the economy of the world was thus balanced and all +was well. So reasoned Colonel Price comfortably, after his way. + +Colonel Price straightened up from his mint-picking with dew on his arm +and a flush of gathered blood in his cheeks above his beard. He +looked the philosopher and humanitarian that he was that morning, +his breast-length white beard blowing, his long and thick white hair +brushed back in a rising wave from his broad forehead. He was a tall +and spare man, slender of hand, small of foot, with the crinkles of +past laughter about his eyes, and in his face benevolence. One would +have named him a poet at first look, and argued for the contention on +further acquaintance. + +But Colonel Price was not a poet, except at heart, any more than he was +a soldier, save in name. He never had trod the bloody fields of war, but +had won his dignified and honorable title in the quiet ways of peace. +Colonel Price was nothing less than an artist, who painted many things +because they brought him money, and one thing because he loved it and +could do it well. + +He painted prize-winning heifers and horses; portraits from the faces of +men as nature had made them, with more or less fidelity, and from faded +photographs and treasured daguerreotypes of days before and during the +war, with whatever embellishments their owners required. He painted +plates of apples which had taken prizes at the county fair, and royal +pumpkins and kingly swine which had won like high distinctions. But the +one thing he painted because he loved it, and could do it better than +anybody else, was corn. + +At corn Colonel Price stood alone. He painted it in bunches hanging on +barn doors, and in disordered heaps in the husk, a gleam of the grain +showing here and there; and he painted it shelled from the cob. No +matter where or how he painted it, his corn always was ripe and +seasoned, like himself, and always so true to nature, color, form, +crinkle, wrinkle, and guttered heart, that farmers stood before it +marveling. + +Colonel Price's heifers might be--very frequently they were--hulky and +bumpy and out of proportion, his horses strangely foreshortened and +hindlengthened; but there never was any fault to be found with his corn. +Corn absolved him of all his sins against animate and inanimate things +which had stood before his brush in his long life; corn apotheosized +him, corn lifted him to the throne and put the laurel upon his old white +locks. + +The colonel had lived in Shelbyville for more than thirty years, in the +same stately house with its three Ionic pillars reaching from ground to +gable, supporting the two balconies facing toward the east. A square +away on one hand was the court-house, a square away on the other the +Presbyterian church; and around him were the homes of men whom he had +seen come there young, and ripen with him in that quiet place. Above him +on the hill stood the famous old college, its maples and elms around it, +and coming down from it on each side of the broad street which led to +its classic door. + +Colonel Price turned his thoughts from mint to men as he came across the +dewy lawn, his gleanings in his hand, his bare head gleaming in the +morning sun. He had heard, the evening before, of the arrest of Peter +Newbolt's boy for the murder of Isom Chase, and the news of it had come +to him with a disturbing shock, almost as poignant as if one of his own +blood had been accused. + +The colonel knew the sad story of Peter marrying below his estate away +back there in Kentucky long ago. The Newbolts were blue-grass people, +entitled to mate with the best in the land. Peter had debased his blood +by marrying a mountain girl. Colonel Price had held it always to Peter's +credit that he had been ashamed of his _mésalliance_, and had plunged +away into the woods of Missouri with his bride to hide her from the eyes +of his aristocratic family and friends. + +Back in Kentucky the colonel's family and the Newbolt's had been +neighbors. A few years after Peter made his dash across the Mississippi +with his bride, and the journey on horseback to his new home, young +Price had followed, drawn to Shelbyville by the fame of that place at a +seat of culture and knowledge, which even in that early day had spread +afar. The colonel--not having won his title then--came across the river +with his easel under one arm and his pride under the other. He had kept +both of them in honor all those years. + +On the hopes and ambitions of those early days the colonel had realized, +in a small way, something in the measure of a man who sets to work with +the intention of making a million and finds himself content at last to +count his gains by hundreds. He had taken up politics as a spice to the +placid life of art, and once had represented his district in the state +assembly, and four times had been elected county clerk. Then he had +retired on his honors, with a competence from his early investments and +an undivided ambition to paint corn. + +Through all those years he had watched the struggles of Peter Newbolt, +who never seemed able to kick a foothold in the steps of success, and he +had seen him die at last, with his unrealized schemes of life around +him. And now Peter's boy was in jail, charged with slaying old Isom +Chase. Death had its compensations, at the worst, reflected the colonel. +It had spared Peter this crowning disgrace. + +That boy must be a throw-back, thought the colonel, to the ambuscading, +feud-fighting men on his mother's side. The Newbolts never had been +accused of crime back in Kentucky. There they had been the legislators, +the judges, the governors, and senators. Yes, thought the colonel, +coming around the corner of the house, lifting the fragrant bunch of +mint to his face and pausing a step while he drank its breath; yes, the +boy must be a throw-back. It wasn't in the Newbolt blood to do a thing +like that. + +The colonel heard the front gate close sharply, drawn to by the stone +weight which he had arranged for that purpose, having in mind the +guarding of his mint-bed from the incursions of dogs. He wondered who +could be coming in so early, and hastened forward to see. A woman was +coming up the walk toward the house. + +She was tall, and soberly clad, and wore a little shawl over her head, +which she held at her chin with one hand. The other hand she extended +toward the colonel with a gesture of self-depreciation and appeal as she +hurried forward in long strides. + +"Colonel Price, Colonel Price, sir! Can I speak to you a minute?" she +asked, her voice halting from the shortness of breath. + +"Certainly, ma'am; I am at your command," said the colonel. + +"Colonel, you don't know me," said she, a little inflection of +disappointment in her tone. + +She stood before him, and the little shawl over her hair fell back to +her shoulders. Her clothing was poor, her feet were covered with dust. +She cast her hand out again in that little movement of appeal. + +"Mrs. Newbolt, Peter Newbolt's widow, upon my soul!" exclaimed the +colonel, shocked by his own slow recognition. "I beg your pardon, madam. +I didn't know you at first, it has been so long since I saw you. But I +was thinking of you only the minute past." + +"Oh, I'm in such trouble, Colonel Price!" said she. + +Colonel Price took her by the arm with tender friendliness. + +"Come in and rest and refresh yourself," said he. "You surely didn't +walk over here?" + +"Yes, it's only a step," said she. + +"Five or six miles, I should say," ventured the colonel. + +"Oh, no, only four. Have you heard about my boy Joe?" + +The colonel admitted that he had heard of his arrest. + +"I've come over to ask your advice on what to do," said she, "and I hope +it won't bother you much, Colonel Price. Joe and me we haven't got a +friend in this world!" + +"I will consider it a duty and a pleasure to assist the boy in any way I +can," said the colonel in perfunctory form. "But first come in, have +some breakfast, and then we'll talk it over. I'll have to apologize for +Miss Price. I'm afraid she's abed yet," said he, opening the door, +showing his visitor into the parlor. + +"I'm awful early," said Mrs. Newbolt hesitating at the door. "It's +shameful to come around disturbin' folks at this hour. But when a body's +in trouble, Colonel Price, time seems long." + +"It's the same with all of us," said he. "But Miss Price will be down +presently. I think I hear her now. Just step in, ma'am." + +She looked deprecatingly at her dusty shoes, standing there in the +parlor door, her skirts gathered back from them. + +"If I could wipe some of this dust off," said she. + +"Never mind that; we are all made of it," the colonel said. "I'll have +the woman set you out some breakfast; afterward we'll talk about the +boy." + +"I thank you kindly, Colonel Price, but I already et, long ago, what +little I had stomach for," said she. + +"Then if you will excuse me for a moment, madam?" begged the colonel, +seeing her seated stiffly in an upholstered chair. + +She half rose in acknowledgment of his bow, awkward and embarrassed. + +"You're excusable, sir," said she. + +The colonel dashed away down the hall. She was only a mountain woman, +certainly, but she was a lady by virtue of having been a gentleman's +wife. And she had caught him without a coat! + +Mrs. Newbolt sat stiffly in the parlor in surroundings which were of the +first magnitude of grandeur to her, with corn pictures adorning the +walls along with some of the colonel's early transgressions in +landscapes, and the portraits of colonels in the family line who had +gone before. That was the kind of fixings Joe would like, thought she, +nodding her serious head; just the kind of things that Joe would enjoy +and understand, like a gentleman born to it. + +"Well, he comes by it honest," said she aloud. + +Colonel Price did not keep her waiting long. He came back in a black +coat that was quite as grand as Judge Little's, and almost as long. That +garment was the mark of fashion and gentility in that part of the +country in those days, a style that has outlived many of the hearty old +gentlemen who did it honor, and has descended even to this day with +their sons. + +"My son's innocent of what they lay to him, Colonel Price," said Mrs. +Newbolt, with impressive dignity which lifted her immediately in the +colonel's regard. + +Even an inferior woman could not associate with a superior man that long +without some of his gentility passing to her, thought he. Colonel Price +inclined his head gravely. + +"Madam, Peter Newbolt's son never would commit a crime, much less the +crime of murder," he said, yet with more sincerity in his words, +perhaps, than lay in his heart. + +"I only ask you to hold back your decision on him till you can learn the +truth," said she, unconsciously passing over the colonel's declaration +of confidence. "You don't remember Joe maybe, for he was only a little +shaver the last time you stopped at our house when you was canvassin' +for office. That's been ten or 'leven--maybe more--years ago. Joe, he's +growed considerable since then." + +"They do, they shoot up," said the colonel encouragingly. + +"Yes; but Joe he's nothing like me. He runs after his father's side of +the family, and he's a great big man in size now, Colonel Price; but +he's as soft at heart as a dove." + +So she talked on, telling him what she knew. When she had finished +laying the case of Joe before him, the colonel sat thinking it over a +bit, one hand in his beard, his head slightly bowed. Mrs. Newbolt +watched him with anxious eyes. Presently he looked at her and smiled. A +great load of uncertainty went up from her heart in a sigh. + +"The first thing to do is to get him a lawyer, and the best one we can +nail," the colonel said. + +She nodded, her face losing its worried tension. + +"And the next thing is for Joe to make a clean breast of everything, +holding back nothing that took place between him and Isom that night." + +"I'll tell him to do it," said she eagerly, "and I know he will when I +tell him you said he must." + +"I'll go over to the sheriff's with you and see him," said the colonel, +avoiding the use of the word "jail" with a delicacy that was his own. + +"I'm beholden to you, Colonel Price, for all your great kindness," said +she. + +There had been no delay in the matter of returning an indictment against +Joe. The grand jury was in session at that time, opportunely for all +concerned, and on the day that Joe was taken to the county jail the case +was laid before that body by the prosecuting attorney. Before the grand +jury adjourned that day's business a true bill had been returned against +Joe Newbolt, charging him with the murder of Isom Chase. + +There was in Shelbyville at that time a lawyer who had mounted to his +profession like a conqueror, over the heads of his fellow-townsmen as +stepping-stones. Perhaps it would be nearer the mark to say that the +chins of the men of Shelbyville were the rungs in this ladder, for the +lawyer had risen from the barber's chair. He had shaved and sheared his +way from that ancient trade, in which he had been respected as an able +hand, to the equally ancient profession, in which he was cutting a +rather ludicrous and lumbering figure. + +But he had that enterprise and lack of modesty which has lately become +the fashion among young lawyers--and is spreading fast among the old +ones, too--which carried him into places and cases where simply learning +would have left him without a brief. If a case did not come to Lawyer +Hammer, Lawyer Hammer went to the case, laid hold of it by force, and +took possession of it as a kidnaper carries off a child. + +Hammer was a forerunner of the type of lawyer so common in our centers +of population today, such as one sees chasing ambulances through the +streets with a business-card in one hand and a contract in the other; +such as arrives at the scene of wreck, fire, and accident along with the +undertaker, and always ahead of the doctors and police. + +Hammer had his nose in the wind the minute that Constable Frost came +into town with his prisoner. Before Joe had been in jail an hour he had +engaged himself to defend that unsophisticated youngster, and had drawn +from him an order on Mrs. Newbolt for twenty-five dollars. He had +demanded fifty as his retainer, but Joe knew that his mother had but +twenty-five dollars saved out of his wages, and no more. He would not +budge a cent beyond that amount. + +So, as Mrs. Newbolt and Colonel Price approached the jail that morning, +they beheld the sheriff and Lawyer Hammer coming down the steps of the +county prison, and between them Joe, like _Eugene Aram_, "with gyves +upon his wrists." The sheriff was taking Joe out to arraign him before +the circuit judge to plead to the indictment. + +The court convened in that same building where all the county's business +was centered, and there was no necessity for taking the prisoner out +through one door and in at another, for there was a passage from cells +to court-rooms. But if he had taken Joe that way, the sheriff would have +lost a seldom-presented opportunity of showing himself on the streets in +charge of a prisoner accused of homicide, to say nothing of the grand +opening for the use of his ancient wrist-irons. + +Lawyer Hammer also enjoyed his distinction in that short march. He +leaned over and whispered in his client's ear, so that there would be no +doubt left in the public understanding of his relations to the prisoner, +and he took Joe's arm and added his physical support to his legal as +they descended the steps. + +Mrs. Newbolt was painfully shocked by the sight of the irons on Joe's +wrists. She groaned as if they clamped the flesh of her own. + +"Oh, they didn't need to do that," she moaned. + +Joe doubtless heard her, for he lifted his face and ran his eyes through +the crowd which had gathered. When he found her he smiled. That was the +first look Colonel Price ever had taken into the lad's face. + +"No," said he, answering her anguished outbreak with a fervency that +came from his heart, "there was no need of that at all." + +They followed the sheriff and his charge into the court-room, where Mrs. +Newbolt introduced Colonel Price to her son. While Joe and his mother +sat in whispered conversation at the attorney's table, the colonel +studied the youth's countenance. + +He had expected to meet a weak-faced, bony-necked, shock-headed type +of gangling youngster such as ranged the Kentucky hills in his own +boyhood. At best he had hoped for nothing more than a slow-headed, +tobacco-chewing rascal with dodging, animal eyes. The colonel's +pleasure, then, both as an artist and an honest man, was great on +beholding this unusual face, strong and clear, as inflexible in its +molded lines of high purpose and valiant deeds as a carving in Flemish +oak. + +Here was the Peter Newbolt of long ago, remodeled in a stronger cast, +with more nobility in his brow, more promise in his long, bony jaw. Here +was no boy at all, but a man, full-founded and rugged, and as honest as +daylight, the colonel knew. + +Colonel Price was prepared to believe whatever that young fellow might +say, and to maintain it before the world. He was at once troubled to see +Hammer mixed up in the case, for he detested Hammer as a plebeian +smelling of grease, who had shouldered his unwelcome person into a +company of his betters, which he could neither dignify nor grace. + +The proceedings in court were brief. Joe stood, upon the reading of the +long, rambling information by the prosecuting attorney, and entered a +calm and dignified plea of not guilty. He was held without bond for +trial two weeks from that day. + +In the sheriff's office Mrs. Newbolt and the colonel sat with Joe, his +wrists free from the humiliating irons, and talked the situation over. +Hammer was waiting on the outside. Colonel Price having waved him away, +not considering for a moment the lowering of himself to include Hammer +in the conference. + +The colonel found that he could not fall into an easy, advisory attitude +with Joe. He could not even suggest what he had so strongly recommended +to Mrs. Newbolt before meeting her son--that he make a clean breast of +all that took place between himself and Isom Chase before the tragedy. +Colonel Price felt that he would be taking an offensive and unwarranted +liberty in offering any advice at all on that head. Whatever his reasons +for concealment and silence were, the colonel told himself, the young +man would be found in the end justified; or if there was a revelation to +be made, then he would make it at the proper time without being pressed. +Of that the colonel felt sure. A gentleman could be trusted. + +But there was another matter upon which the colonel had no scruples of +silence, and that was the subject of the attorney upon whom Joe had +settled to conduct his affairs. + +"That man Hammer is not, to say the least, the very best lawyer in +Shelbyville," said he. + +"No, I don't suppose he is," allowed Joe. + +"Now, I believe in you, Joe, as strong as any man can believe in +another----" + +"Thank you, sir," said Joe, lifting his solemn eyes to the colonel's +face. The colonel nodded his acknowledgment. + +"But, no matter how innocent you are, you've got to stand trial on this +outrageous charge, and the county attorney he's a hard and unsparing +man. You'll need brains on your side as well as innocence, for innocence +alone seldom gets a man off. And I'm sorry to tell you, son, that Jeff +Hammer hasn't got the brains you'll need in your lawyer. He never did +have 'em, and he never will have 'em--never in this mortal world!" + +"I thought he seemed kind of sharp," said Joe, coloring a little at the +colonel's implied charge that he had been taken in. + +"He is sharp," admitted the colonel, "but that's all there is to him. He +can wiggle and squirm like a snake; but he's got no dignity, and no +learnin', and what he don't know about law would make a book bigger than +the biggest dictionary you ever saw." + +"Land's sake!" said Mrs. Newbolt, lifting up her hands despairingly. + +"Oh, I guess he'll do, Colonel Price," said Joe. + +"My advice would be to turn him out and put somebody else in his place, +one of the old, respectable heads of the profession here, like Judge +Burns." + +"I wouldn't like to do that, colonel," said Joe. + +"Well, we'll see how he behaves," the colonel yielded, seeing that Joe +felt in honor bound to Hammer, now that he had engaged him. "We can put +somebody else in if he goes to cuttin' up too many didoes and capers." + +Joe agreed that they could, and gave his mother a great deal of comfort +and assurance by his cheerful way of facing what lay ahead of him. He +told her not to worry on his account, and not to come too often and wear +herself out in the long walk. + +"Look after the chickens and things, Mother," said he, "and I'll be out +of here in two weeks to help you along. There's ten dollars coming to +you from Isom's; you collect that and buy yourself some things." + +He told her of the order that he had given Hammer for the retaining fee, +and asked her to take it up. + +"I'll make it up to you, Mother, when I get this thing settled and can +go to work again," said he. + +Tears came into her eyes, but no trace of emotion was to be marked by +any change in her immobile face. + +"Lord bless you, son, it all belongs to you!" she said. + +"Do you care about reading?" the colonel inquired, scarcely supposing +that he did, considering the chances which had been his for development +in that way. + +Mrs. Newbolt answered for Joe, who was slow and deliberative of speech, +and always stopped to weigh his answer to a question, no matter how +obvious the reply must be. + +"Oh, Colonel Price, if you could see him!" said she proudly. "Before he +was ten years old he'd read the _Cottage Encyclopedy_ and the +_Imitation_ and the Bible--from back to back!" + +"Well, I'm glad to hear you're of a studious mind," said the colonel. + +As often as Joe had heard his mother boast of his achievements with +those three notable books, he had not yet grown hardened to it. It +always gave him a feeling of foolishness, and drowned him in blushes. +Now it required some time for him to disentangle himself, but presently +he looked at the colonel with a queer smile, as he said: + +"Mother always tells that on me." + +"It's nothing to be ashamed of," comforted the colonel, marking his +confusion. + +"And all the books he's borrowed since then!" said she, conveying a +sense of magnitude by the stress of her expression. "He strained his +eyes so when he was seventeen readin' Shuckspur's writings that the +teacher let him have I thought he'd have to put on specs." + +"My daughter and I have a considerable number of books," said the +colonel, beginning to feel about for a bit more elegance in his method +of expression, as a thing due from one man of culture to another, "and +if you will express your desires I'm sure we shall be glad to supply you +if the scope of our library permits." + +Joe thanked him for the offer, that strange little smile coming over his +face again. + +"It wouldn't take much of a library, Colonel Price, to have a great many +books in it that I've never read," said he. "I haven't been easy enough +in my mind since this thing came up to think about reading--I've got a +book in my pocket that I'd forgotten all about until you mentioned +books." He lifted the skirt of his short coat, his pocket bulging from +the volume wedged into it. "I'll have a job getting it out, too," said +he. + +"It don't seem to be a very heavy volume," smiled the colonel. "What +work is it?" + +"It's the Book," said Joe. + +Colonel Price laid his hand on the lad's shoulder and looked him +straight in the face. + +"Then you've got by you the sum and substance of all knowledge, and the +beginning and the end of all philosophy," said he. "With that work in +your hand you need no other, for it's the father of all books." + +"I've thought that way about it myself sometimes," said Joe, as easy and +confident in his manner with the colonel, who represented a world to +which he was a stranger from actual contact, as a good swimmer in water +beyond his depth. + +"But if you happen to be coming over this way in a day or two you might +stop in if it wouldn't trouble you, and I could name over to you a few +books that I've been wanting to read for a long time." + +"I intend to lighten your brief period of confinement as much as it is +in my power to do," declared the colonel, "and I can speak for my +daughter when I say that she will share my anxiety to make you as +comfortable as human hands can make you in this place, Joe. We'll come +over and cheer you every little while." + +Mrs. Newbolt had sat by, like one who had been left behind at a +way-station by an express-train, while the colonel and Joe had talked. +They had gone beyond her limited powers; there was nothing for her to do +but wait for them to come back. Now the colonel had reached her point of +contact again. + +"You'll be rewarded for your kindness to the widow's son," said she, +nodding her head earnestly, tears shining in her eyes. + +When he was leaving, Colonel Price felt that he must make one more +effort to induce Joe to discharge Hammer and put his case into the hands +of a more competent man. Joe was firm in his determination to give +Hammer a chance. He was a little sensitive on the matter under the rind, +the colonel could see. + +"If I was to hire the best lawyer I could find, Colonel Price, people +would say then that I was guilty, sure enough," said Joe. "They'd say I +was depending more on the lawyer than myself to come clear. Well, +colonel, you know that isn't the case." + +That seemed to settle it, at least for the present. The colonel summoned +the sheriff, who took Joe to his cell. As the colonel and Mrs. Newbolt +passed out, Attorney Hammer appeared, presenting his order for the +money. + +Mrs. Newbolt carried her savings with her. When she had paid Hammer she +had sixty cents left in her calloused palm. + +"That's egg money," said she, tying it in the corner of her handkerchief. +"Oh, colonel, I forgot to ask the sheriff, but do you reckon they'll give +my Joe enough to eat?" + +"I'll see to that," said Hammer officiously. + +Hammer was a large, soft man in an alpaca-coat and white shirt without a +collar. His hair was very black and exceedingly greasy, and brushed down +upon his skull until it glittered, catching every ray of light in his +vicinity like a bucket of oil. He walked in long strides, with a sliding +motion of the feet, and carried his hands with the palms turned outward, +as if ready instantly to close upon any case, fee, or emolument which +came in passing contact with him, even though it might be on its way to +somebody else. + +Mrs. Newbolt was not unfavorably impressed with him, for he seemed very +officious and altogether domineering in the presence of the sheriff, but +her opinion may have been influenced perhaps by Joe's determination to +have him whether or no. She thanked him for his promise of good offices +in Joe's behalf, and he took her arm and impeded her greatly in her +progress down the steps. + +After Mrs. Newbolt had taken some refreshment in the colonel's house, +she prepared to return home. + +"If I had a hoss, madam," said the colonel, "I'd hitch up and carry you +home. But I don't own a hoss, and I haven't owned one for nine years, +since the city grew up so around me I had to sell off my land to keep +the taxes from eatin' me up. If I did own a hoss now," he laughed, "I'd +have no place to keep him except under the bed, like they do the +houn'-dogs back in Kentucky." + +She made light of the walk, for Joe's bright and sanguine carriage had +lightened her sorrow. She had hope to walk home with, and no wayfarer +ever traveled in more pleasant company. + +The colonel and his daughter pressed her to make their home her +resting-place when in town, even inviting her to take up her abode there +until the trial. This generous hospitality she could not accept on +account of the "critters" at home which needed her daily care, and the +eggs which had to be gathered and saved and sold, all against the happy +day when her boy Joe would walk out free and clear from the door of the +county jail. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE SUNBEAM ON THE WALL + + +The sheriff was a mild-mannered man, whose head was shaped like the end +of a watermelon. His hair was close-cut and very thin at the top, due to +the fact that all the nourishing substances both inside and outside his +head, or any way appertaining thereto, went into the maintenance of the +sheriff's mustache, which was at least twice as large as Bill Frost's. + +This, of course, was as it should have been, for even the poorest kind +of a sheriff is more than twice as important as the very best sort of +constable. In those days it was the custom for sheriffs in that part of +the country to train up these prodigious mustaches, perhaps in the +belief that such adornments lent them the appearance of competence and +valor, of which endowments nature had given them no other testimonial. +In any event it is known that many a two-inch sheriff took his stand +behind an eight-inch mustache, and walked boldly in the honor of his +constituents. + +The sheriff of Shelbyville was a type of this class, both in mental +depth and facial adornment. He was exceedingly jealous of his power, and +it was his belief that too many liberties permitted a prisoner, and too +many favors shown, acted in contravention of the law's intent as +interpreted by the prosecuting attorney; namely, that a person under the +cloud of accusation should be treated as guilty until able to prove +himself innocent. Therefore the sheriff would not allow Joe Newbolt to +leave his cell to meet visitors after his arraignment. + +The meeting between the prisoner and his mother in the office of the +jail was to be the last of that sort; all who came in future must see +him at the door of his cell. That was the rule laid down to Joe when he +parted from his mother and Colonel Price that day. + +As a cell in a prison-house, perhaps Joe's place of confinement was +fairly comfortable. It was situated in the basement of the old +court-house, where there was at least light enough to contemplate one's +misery by, and sufficient air to set one longing for the fields. There +was but one other prisoner, a horse-thief, waiting for trial. + +This loquacious fellow, who was lodged directly across the corridor, +took great pains to let Joe see the admiration and esteem in which he +held him on account of the distinguished charge under which he was +confined. He annoyed Joe to such extent that he asked the sheriff that +evening to shift them about if possible. + +"Well, I'll move him if you say so, but I left him there because I +thought he'd be company for you," said the sheriff. "I don't mind +talkin' in this jail when there's no more than two in it." + +"I don't want to talk," said Joe. + +So the horse-thief was removed to the farther end of the corridor, where +he kept up a knocking on the bars of his cell during the early hours of +the night, and then turned off his diversion by imitating the sound of a +saw on steel, which he could do with his tongue against his teeth with +such realism as to bring the sheriff down in his nightshirt, with a +lantern in one hand and a shotgun in the other. + +Joe's second night in jail passed very much like the first, when they +had brought him there all bewildered and dazed. There was a grated +window in the wall above his reach, through which he could see the +branches of an elm-tree, blowing bare of leaves; beyond that a bit of +sky. Joe sat on the edge of his cot that second night a long time after +the stars came out, gazing up at the bar-broken bit of sky, reviewing +the events leading up to his situation. + +There was no resentment in him against the jury of his neighbors whose +finding had sent him to jail under the cloud of that terrible +accusation; he harbored no ill-feeling for the busy, prying little +coroner, who had questioned him so impertinently. There was one person +alone, in the whole world of men, to blame, and that was Curtis Morgan. +He could not have been far away on the day of the inquest; news of the +tragic outcome of Ollie's attempt to join him must have traveled to his +ears. + +Yet he had not come forward to take the load of suspicion from Joe's +shoulders by confessing the treacherous thing that he had plotted. He +need not have revealed the complete story of his trespass upon the honor +of Isom Chase, thought Joe; he could have saved Ollie's name before the +neighbors; and yet relieved Joe of all suspicion. Now that Isom was +dead, he could have married her. But Morgan had not come. He was a +coward as well as a rascal. It was more than likely that, in fear of +being found out, he had fled away. + +And suppose that he never came back; suppose that Ollie should not elect +to stand forth and explain the hidden part of that night's tragedy? She +could not be expected, within reason, to do this. Even the thought that +she might weaken and do so was abhorrent to Joe. It was not a woman's +part to make a sacrifice like that; the world did not expect it of her. +It rested with Morgan, the traitor to hospitality; Morgan, the +ingratiating scoundrel, to come forward and set him free. Morgan alone +could act honorably in that clouded case; but if he should elect to +remain hidden and silent, who would be left to answer but Joe Newbolt? + +And should he reveal the thing that would bring him liberty? Was freedom +more precious than his honor, and the honor of a poor, shrinking, +deluded woman? + +No. He was bound by a gentleman's obligation; self-assumed, self-appointed. +He could not tell. + +But what a terrible situation, what an awful outlook for him in such +event! They hung men for murder on the jail-yard gallows, with a knot of +rope behind the left ear and a black cap over the face. And such a death +left a stain upon the name that nothing would purify. It was an +attainder upon generations unborn. + +Joe walked his cell in the agony of his sudden and acute understanding +of the desperate length to which this thing might carry him. Hammer had +protested, with much show of certainty, that he would get him off +without much difficulty. But perhaps Hammer was counting on him to +reveal what he had kept to himself at the inquest. What should he do +about that in his relations with Hammer? Should he tell him about +Morgan, and have him set men on his track to drag him back and make him +tell the truth? Granting that they found him, who was there to make him +speak? + +Could not Morgan and Ollie, to cover their own shame and blame, form a +pact of silence or denial and turn back his good intentions in the form +of condemnation upon his own head? How improbable and unworthy of belief +his tale, with its reservations and evasions, would sound to a jury with +Morgan and Ollie silent. + +The fright of his situation made him feverish; he felt that he could +tear at the walls with his hands, and scream, and scream until his heart +would burst. He was unmanned there in the dark. He began to realize this +finally after his frenzy had thrown him into a fever. He gave over his +pacing of the little cell, and sat down again to reason and plan. + +Hammer had made so much talk about the papers which he would get ready +that Joe had been considerably impressed. He saw now that it would +require something more than papers to make people understand that he had +a gentleman's reason, and not a thief's, for concealing what they had +pressed him to reveal. + +There was a woman first, and that was about all that Joe could make of +the situation up to that time. She must be protected, even though +unworthy. None knew of that taint upon her but himself and the fugitive +author of it, but Joe could not bring himself to contemplate liberty +bought at the price of her public degradation. This conclusion refreshed +him, and dispelled the phantoms from his hot brain. + +After the sounds of the town had fallen quiet, and the knocking of feet +on the pavement along his prison wall had ceased, Joe slept. He woke +steady, and himself again, long before he could see the sun, yellow on +the boughs of the elm-tree. + +The sheriff furnished him a piece of comb, and he smoothed his hair by +guess, a desperate character, such as he was accounted by the officer, +not being allowed the luxury of a mirror. One might lick the quicksilver +from the back of a mirror, or open an artery with a fragment of it, or +even pound the glass and swallow it. Almost anything was nicer than +hanging, so the sheriff said. + +Scant as the food had been at Isom's until his revolt had forced a +revision of the old man's lifelong standard, Joe felt that morning after +his second jail breakfast that he would have welcomed even a hog-jowl +and beans. The sheriff was allowed but forty cents a day for the +maintenance of each prisoner, and, counting out the twenty-five cents +profit which he felt as a politician in good standing to be his due, the +prisoners' picking was very lean indeed. + +That morning Joe's breakfast had been corn-pone, cold, with no lubricant +to ease it down the lane. There had been a certain squeamish liquid in +addition, which gave off the smell of a burning straw-stack, served in a +large tin cup. Joe had not tasted it, but his nose had told him that it +was "wheat coffee," a brew which his mother had made sometimes in the +old days of their darkest adversity. + +Joe knew from the experience of the previous day that there would be +nothing more offered to fortify the stomach until evening. The +horse-thief called up from his end of the jail, asking Joe how he liked +the fare. + +Reserved as Joe was disposed to be toward him, he expressed himself +somewhat fully on the subject of the sheriff's cuisine. The horse-thief +suggested a petition to the county court or a letter to the sheriff's +political opponent. He said that his experience in jails had been that a +complaint on the food along about election time always brought good +results. Joe was not interested in the matter to that extent. He told +the fellow that he did not expect to be a permanent occupant of the +jail. + +"You think you'll go down the river for a double-nine?" he asked. + +"I don't know what you mean," said Joe. + +"To the pen for life, kid; that's what I mean." + +"I don't know," said Joe gloomily. + +"Well, say, I tell you, if they give you the other," said the friendly +thief, lifting his naturally high voice to make it carry along the +echoing passage, "you'll git plenty to eat, and three times a day, too. +When they put a feller in the death-cell they pass in the finest chuck +in the land. You know, if a feller's got a smart lawyer he can keep up +that line of eatin' for maybe two or three years by appealin' his case +and dodges like that." + +"I don't want to talk," said Joe. + +"Oh, all right, kid," said the thief flippantly. Then he rattled his +grated door to draw Joe's attention. + +"But, 'y God, kid, the day's comin' to you when you will want to talk, +and when you'd give the teeth out of your mouth, and nearly the eyes out +of your head, for the sound of a friendly human voice aimed at you. Let +'em take you off down the river to Jeff' City and put you behind them +tall walls once, where the best you hear's a cuss from a guard, and +where you march along with your hands on the shoulders of the man in +front of you; and another one behind you does the same to you, and their +eyes all down and their faces the color of corpses, and _then_ you'll +know! + +"You'll hear them old fellers, them long-timers, whisperin' in the +night, talkin' to theirselves, and it'll sound to you like wind in the +grass. And you'll think of grass and trees and things like that on the +outside, and you'll feel like you want to ram your head ag'in' the wall +and yell. Maybe you'll do it--plenty of 'em does--and then they'll give +you the water-cure, they'll force it down you with a hose till you think +you'll bust. I tell you, kid, I _know_, 'y God! I've been there--but not +for no double-nine like they'll give you." + +The man's voice seemed to be hanging and sounding yet in the corridor, +even after he was silent, his cruel picture standing in distorted fancy +before Joe's eyes. Joe wiped the sweat from his forehead, breathing +through his open mouth. + +"Well, maybe they won't, though," said the fellow, resuming as if after +considering it, "maybe they'll give you the quick and painless, I don't +know." + +Joe had been standing at his cell door, drawn to listen to the lecture +of his fellow prisoner, terrible, hopeless, as it sounded in his ears. +Now he sat on his bedside again, feeling that this was indeed a true +forecast of his own doom. The sun seemed already shut out from him in +the morning of his day, the prison silence settling, never to be broken +again in those shadows where shuffling men filed by, with eyes downcast +and faces gray, like the faces of the dead. + +Life without liberty would be a barren field, he knew; but liberty +without honor would yield no sweeter fruit. And who was there in the +world of honorable men to respect a coward who had saved his own skin +from the fire by stripping a frail woman's back to the brand? A +gentleman couldn't do it, said Joe, at the end, coming back from his +sweating race with fear to the starting-place, a good deal cooled, not a +little ashamed. + +Let them use him as they might; he would stand by his first position in +the matter. He would have to keep on lying, as he had begun; but it +would be repeating an honorable lie, and no man ever went to hell for +that. + +The sun was coming through the high cell window, broadening its oblique +beam upon the wall. Looking up at it, Joe thought that it must be +mid-morning. Now that his panic was past, his stomach began to make a +gnawing and insistent demand for food. Many a heavy hour must march by, +thought he, before the sheriff came with his beggarly portion. He felt +that in case he should be called upon to endure imprisonment long he +must fall away to a skeleton and die. + +In his end of the corridor the horse-thief was still, and Joe was glad +of it. No matter how earnestly he might come to desire the sound of a +human voice in time, he did not want to hear the horse-thief's then, nor +any other that prophesied such disquieting things. + +There was a barred gate across the corridor at the foot of the stairs +which led up to the sheriff's office. Joe's heart jumped with the hope +that it was his mother coming when he heard the key in the lock and +voices at the grating. + +"Right down there, to the right," the sheriff was directing. "When you +want to leave just come here and rattle the lock. I can't take no +chances bringin' such desperate fellers as him up to the office, +colonel. You can see that as well as me." + +What Colonel Price replied Joe could not hear, for his low-modulated +voice of culture was like velvet beside a horse-blanket compared to the +sheriff's. + +"I'm over on this side, colonel, sir," said Joe before he could see +him. + +And then the colonel stepped into the light which came through the cell +window, bringing with him one who seemed as fair to Joe in that somber +place as the bright creatures who stood before Jacob in Bethel that +night he slept with his head upon a stone. + +"This is my daughter," said Colonel Price. "We called in to kind of +cheer you up." + +She offered Joe her hand between the bars; his went forward to meet it +gropingly, for it lacked the guidance of his eyes. + +Joe was honey-bound, like an eager bee in the heart of some great golden +flower, tangled and leashed in a thousand strands of her hair. The lone +sunbeam of his prison had slipped beyond the lintel of his low door, as +if it had timed its coming to welcome her, and now it lay like a hand in +benediction above her brow. + +Her hair was as brown as wild honey; a golden glint lay in it here and +there under the sun, like the honeycomb. A smile kindled in her brown +eyes as she looked at him, and ran out to the corners of them in little +crinkles, then moved slowly upon her lips. Her face was quick with the +eagerness of youth, and she was tall. + +"I'm surely beholden to you, Miss Price, for this favor," said Joe, +lapsing into the Kentucky mode of speech, "and I'm ashamed to be caught +in such a place as this." + +"You have nothing to be ashamed of," said she; "we know you are +innocent." + +"Thank you kindly, Miss Price," said he with quaint, old courtesy that +came to him from some cavalier of Cromwell's day. + +"I thought you'd better meet Alice," explained the colonel, "and get +acquainted with her, for young people have tastes in common that old +codgers like me have outgrown. She might see some way that I would +overlook to make you more comfortable here during the time you will be +obliged to wait." + +"Yes, sir," said Joe, hearing the colonel's voice, but not making much +out of what he was saying. + +He was thinking that out of the gloom of his late cogitations she had +come, like hope hastening to refute the argument of the horse-thief. His +case could not be so despairing with one like her believing in him. It +was a matter beyond a person such as a horse-thief, of course. One of a +finer nature could understand. + +"Father spoke of some books," she ventured; "if you will----" + +Her voice was checked suddenly by a sound which rose out of the farther +end of the corridor and made her start and clutch her father's arm. Joe +pressed his face against the bars and looked along at his fellow +prisoner, who was dragging his tin cup over the bars of his cell door +with rapid strokes. + +When the thief saw that he had drawn the attention of the visitors, he +thrust his arm out and beckoned to the colonel. "Mister, I want to ask +you to do me a little turn of a favor," he begged in a voice new to Joe, +so full of anguish, so tremulous and weak. "I want you to carry out to +the world and put in the papers the last message of a dyin' man!" + +"What's the matter with you, you poor wretch?" asked the colonel, moved +to pity. + +"Don't pay any attention to him," advised Joe; "he's only acting up. +He's as strong as I am. I think he wants to beg from you." + +The colonel turned away from him to resume his conference with Joe, and +the horse-thief once more rattled his cup across the bars. + +"That noise is very annoying," said the colonel, turning to the man +tartly. "Stop it now, before I call the sheriff!" + +"Friend, it's a starvin' man that's appealin' to you," said the +prisoner, "it's a man that ain't had a full meal in three weeks. Ask +that gentleman what we git here, let him tell you what this here sheriff +that's up for election agin serves to us poor fellers. Corn dodger for +breakfast, so cold you could keep fish on it, and as hard as the rocks +in this wall! That's what we git, and that's all we git. Ask your +friend." + +"Is he telling the truth?" asked the colonel, looking curiously at Joe. + +"I'm afraid he is, colonel, sir." + +"I'll talk to him," said the colonel. + +In a moment he was listening to the horse-thief's earnest relation of +the hardships which he had suffered in the Shelbyville jail, and Joe and +Alice were standing face to face, with less than a yard's space between +them, but a barrier there as insuperable as an alp. + +He wanted to say something to cause her to speak again, for her low +voice was as wonderful to him as the sound of some strange instrument +moved to unexpected music by a touch in the dark. He saw her looking +down the corridor, and swiftly around her, as if afraid of what lay in +the shadows of the cells, afraid of the memories of old crimes which +they held, and the lingering recollection of the men they had +contained. + +"He'll not do any harm, don't be afraid," said he. + +"No, I'm not," she told him, drawing a little nearer, quite unconsciously, +he knew, as she spoke. "I was thinking how dreadful it must be here for +you, especially in the night. But it will not be for long," she cheered +him; "we know they'll soon set you free." + +"I suppose a person would think a guilty man would suffer more here than +an innocent one," said he, "but I don't think that's so. That man down +there knows he's going to be sent to the penitentiary for stealing a +horse, but he sings." + +She was looking at him, a little cloud of perplexity in her eyes, as if +there was something about him which she had not looked for and did not +quite understand. She blushed when Joe turned toward her, slowly, and +caught her eyes at their sounding. + +He was thinking over a problem new to him, also--the difference in +women. There was Ollie, who marked a period in his life when he began to +understand these things, dimly. Ollie was not like this one in any +particular that he could discover as common between them. She was far +back in the past today, like a simple lesson, hard in its hour, but +conquered and put by. Here was one as far above Ollie as a star. + +Miss Price began to speak of books, reaching out with a delicate +hesitancy, as if she feared that she might lead into waters too deep for +him to follow. He quickly relieved her of all danger of embarrassment on +that head by telling her of some books which he had not read, but wished +to read, holding to the bars as he talked, looking wistfully toward the +spot of sunlight which was now growing as slender as a golden cord +against the gray wall. His eyes came back to her face, to find that look +of growing wonder there, to see her quick blush mount and consume it in +her eyes like a flame. + +"You've made more of the books that you've read than many of us with a +hundred times more," said she warmly. "I'll be ashamed to mention books +to you again." + +"You oughtn't say that," said he, hanging his head in boyish confusion, +feeling that same sense of shyness and desire to hide as came over him +when his mother recounted his youthful campaign against the three books +on the Newbolt shelf. + +"You remember what you get out of them," she nodded gravely, "I don't." + +"My father used to say that was one advantage in having a few," said +he. + +The colonel joined them then, the loud-spoken benediction of the +horse-thief following him. There was a flush of indignation in his face +and fire in his eyes. + +"I'll expose the scoundrel; I'll show him that he can't rob both the +county and the helpless men that misfortune throws into his hands!" the +colonel declared. + +He gave his hand to Joe in his ceremonious fashion. + +"I've got some pressing business ahead of me with the sheriff," he said, +"and we'll be going along. But I'll manage to come over every few days +and bring what cheer I can to you, Joe." + +"Don't put yourself out," said Joe; "but I'll be mighty glad to see you +any time." + +"This is only a cloud in your life, boy; it will pass, and leave your +sky serene and bright," the colonel cheered. + +"I'll see how many of the books that you've named we have," said Alice. +"I'm afraid we haven't them all." + +"I'll appreciate anything at all," said Joe. + +He looked after her as far as his eyes could follow, and then he +listened until her footsteps died, turning his head, checking his +breath, as if holding his very life poised to catch the fading music of +some exquisite strain. + +When she was quite out of hearing, he sighed, and marked an imaginary +line upon the wall. Her head had reached to there, just on a level with +a certain bolt. He measured himself against it to see where it struck in +his own height. It was just a boy's trick. He blushed when he found +himself at it. + +He sat on his bedside and took up the Book. The humor for reading seemed +to have passed away from him for then. But there was provender for +thought, new thought, splendid and bright-colored. He felt that he had +been associating, for the first time in his life, with his own kind. He +never had seen Alice Price before that day, for their lives had been +separated by all that divides the eminent from the lowly, the rich from +the poor, and seeing her had been a moving revelation. She had come into +his troubled life and soothed it, marking a day never to be forgotten. +He sat there thinking of her, the unopened book in his hand. + +How different she was from Ollie, the wild rose clambering unkept beside +the hedge. She was so much more delicate in form and face than +Ollie--Ollie, who--There was a sense of sacrilege in the thought. He +must not name her with Ollie; he must not think of them in the measure +of comparison. Even such juxtaposition was defiling for Alice. Ollie, +the unclean! + +Joe got up and walked his cell. How uncouth he was, thought he, his +trousers in his boot-tops, his coat spare upon his growing frame. He +regarded himself with a feeling of shame. Up to that time he never had +given his clothing any thought. As long as it covered him, it was +sufficient. But it was different after seeing Alice. Alice! What a +soothing name! + +Joe never knew what Colonel Price said to the sheriff; but after the +little gleam of sun had faded out of his cell, and the gnawings of his +stomach had become painfully acute, his keeper came down with a basket +on his arm. He took from it a dinner of boiled cabbage and beef, such as +a healthy man might lean upon with confidence, and the horse-thief came +in for his share of it, also. + +When the sheriff came to Joe's cell for the empty dishes, he seemed very +solicitous for his comfort and welfare. + +"Need any more cover on your bed, or anything?" + +No, Joe thought there was enough cover; and he did not recall in his +present satisfied state of stomach, that his cell lacked any other +comfort that the sheriff could supply. + +"Well, if you want anything, all you've got to do is holler," said the +sheriff in a friendly way. + +There is nothing equal to running for office to move the love of a man +for his fellows, or to mellow his heart to magnanimous deeds. + +"Say," called the horse-thief in voice softened by the vapors of his +steaming dinner, "that friend of yours with the whiskers all over him is +ace-high over here in this end of the dump! And say, friend, they could +keep me here for life if they'd send purty girls like that one down here +to see me once in a while. You're in right, friend; you certainly air in +right!" + + * * * * * + +Colonel Price had kindled a fire in his library that night, for the +first chill of frost was in the air. He sat in meditative pose, the +newspaper spread wide and crumpling upon the floor beside him in his +listlessly swinging hand. The light of the blazing logs was laughing in +his glasses, and the soft gleam of the shaded lamp was on his hair. + +Books by the hundred were there in the shelves about him. Old books, +brown in the dignity of age and service to generations of men; new +books, tucked among them in bright colors, like transient blooms in the +homely stability of garden soil. There was a long oak table, made of +native lumber and finished in its natural color, smoke-brown from age, +like the books; and there was Alice, like a nimble bee skimming the +sweets of flowers, flitting here and there in this scholar's sanctuary. + +Colonel Price looked up out of his meditation and followed her with a +smile. + +"Have you found them all?" he asked. + +"I've found Milton and _The Lays of Ancient Rome_ and _Don Quixote_, but +I can't find the _Meditations of Marcus Aurelius_," said she. + +"Judge Maxwell has it," he nodded; "he carried it away more than a month +ago. It was the first time he ever met an English translation, he said. +I must get it from him; he has a remarkably short memory for borrowed +books." + +Alice joined him in the laugh over the judge's shortcoming. + +"He's a regular old dear!" she said. + +"Ah, yes; if he was only forty years younger, Alice--if he was only +forty years younger!" the colonel sighed. + +"I like him better the way he is," said she. + +"Where did that boy ever hear tell of Marcus Aurelius?" he wondered. + +"I don't know." She shook her head. "I don't understand him, he seems so +strange and deep. He's not like a boy. You'd think, from talking with +him, that he'd had university advantages." + +"It's blood," said the colonel, with the proud swelling of a man who can +boast that precious endowment himself, "you can't keep it down. There's +no use talking to me about this equality between men at the hour of +birth; it's all a poetic fiction. It would take forty generations of +this European scum such as is beginning to drift across to us and taint +our national atmosphere to produce one Joe Newbolt! And he's got blood +on only one side, at that. + +"But the best in all the Newbolt generations that have gone before seem +to be concentrated in that boy. He'll come through this thing as bright +as a new bullet, and he'll make his mark in the world, too. Marcus +Aurelius. Well, bless my soul!" + +"Is it good?" she asked, stacking the books which she had selected on +the table, standing with her hand on them, looking down at her smiling +father with serious face. + +"I wouldn't say that it would be good for a young lady with forty beaus +and unable to choose among them, or for a frivolous young thing with +three dances a week----" + +"Oh, never more than two at the very height of social dissipation in +Shelbyville!" she laughed. + +He lifted a finger, imposing silence, and a laugh lurked in his eyes. + +"No, I'd not say that such a light-headed creature would find much +fodder in the ruminations and speculations and wise conclusions of our +respected friend, Marcus," said he. "But a lad like Joe Newbolt, with a +pair of eyes in his head like a prophet, will get a great deal of good, +and even comfort, out of that book." + +"We must get it from Judge Maxwell," said she conclusively. + +"A strange lad, a strange lad," reflected the colonel. + +"So tall and strong," said she. "Why, from the way his mother spoke of +him, I expected to see a little fellow with trousers up to his knees." + +She sat at the table and began cutting the leaves of a new magazine. + +Colonel Price lifted his paper, smoothed the crumples out of it, +adjusted the focus of his glasses, and resumed reading the county news. +They seemed contented and happy there, alone, with their fire in the +chimney. Fire itself is a companion. It is like youth in a room. + +There was between them a feeling of comradeship and understanding which +seldom lives where youth stands on one hand, age on the other. Years ago +Alice's mother had gone beyond the storms and vexations of this life. +Those two remaining of the little family had drawn together, closing up +the space that her absence had made. There seemed no disparity of years, +and their affection and fidelity had come to be a community pride. + +Alice was far from being the frivolous young thing that her father's +banter indicated. She had a train of admirers, never thinning from year +to year, to be certain, for it had been the regular fate of adolescent +male Shelbyville to get itself tangled up in love with Alice Price ever +since her high-school days. Many of the youngsters soon outgrew the +affection; but it seemed to become a settled and permanent affliction in +others, threatening to incapacitate them from happiness, according to +their young view of it, and blast their ambitions in the face of the +world. + +Every girl, to greater or less extent, has her courtiers of that kind. +Nature has arranged this sort of tribute for the little queen-bees of +humanity's hives. And so there were other girls in Shelbyville who had +their train of beaus, but there was none quite so popular or so much +desired as Alice Price. + +Alice was considered the first beauty of the place. Added to this +primary desirability was the fact that, in the fine gradations of +pedigrees and the stringent exactions of blood which the patrician +families of Shelbyville drew, Colonel Price and his daughter were the +topmost plumes on the peacock of aristocracy. Other young ladies seemed +to make all haste to assuage the pangs of at least one young man by +marrying him, and to blunt the hopes of the rest by that decisive act. +Not so Alice Price. She was frank and friendly, as eager for the +laughter of life as any healthy young woman should be, but she gave the +young men kindly counsel when they became insistent or boresome, and +sent them away. + +Shelbyville was founded by Kentuckians; some of the old State's best +families were represented there. A person's pedigree was his credentials +in the society of the slumbering little town, nestled away among the +blue hills of Missouri. It did not matter so much about one's past, for +blood will have its vagaries and outflingings of youthful spirit; and +even less what the future promised, just so there was blood to vouch for +him at the present. + +Blood had not done a great deal for Shelbyville, no matter what its +excellencies in social and political life. The old town stood just about +as it was finished, sixty years and more before that time. Upstart +cities had sprung up not far away, throwing Shelbyville into hopeless +shadow. The entire energies of its pioneers seemed to have been expended +in its foundation, leaving them too much exhausted to transmit any of +their former fire and strength to their sons. It followed that the sons +of Shelbyville were not what their fathers had been. + +Of course, there were exceptions where one of them rose once in a while +and made a streak across the state or national firmament. Some of them +were eminent in the grave professions; most of them were conductors of +street cars in Kansas City, the nearest metropolis. There was not room +in Shelbyville for all its sons to establish themselves at law, even if +they had all been equipped, and if a man could not be a lawyer or a +college professor, what was open to him, indeed, but conducting a +street-car? That was a placid life. + +It is remarkable how Kentuckians can maintain the breed of their horses +through many generations, but so frequently fall short in the standard +of their sons. Kentuckians are only an instance. The same might be said +of kings. + +Not understanding her exactions in the matter, nor her broader +requirements, Shelbyville could not make out why Alice Price remained +unmated. She was almost twenty, they said, which was coming very close +to the age-limit in Shelbyville. It was nothing unusual for girls to +marry there at seventeen, and become grandmothers at thirty-seven. + +If she wanted better blood than she could find in Shelbyville, the old +gentlemen said, twisting their white old heads in argumentative +finality, she'd have to go to the nobility of Europe. Even then she'd be +running her chances, by Ned! They grew indignant when she refused to +have their sons. They took it up with the colonel, they remonstrated, +they went into pedigrees and offered to produce documents. + +There was Shelley Bryant's father, a fine, straight-backed old gentleman +with beard as white as the plumage of a dove. His son was a small, +red-faced, sandy-haired, pale-eyed chap with spaces between his big +front teeth. He traded in horses, and sometimes made as much as fifteen +dollars on a Saturday. His magnitude of glory and manly dignity as +compared to his father's was about that of a tin pan to the sun. + +When Alice refused Shelley, the old general--he had won the title in +war, unlike Colonel Price--went to the colonel and laid the matter off +with a good deal of emphasis and flourishing of his knotted black stick. +If a woman demanded blood, said the general, where could she aspire +above Shelley? And beyond blood, what was there to be considered when it +came to marrying and breeding up a race of men? + +Champion that he was of blood and lineage, Colonel Price was nettled by +the old gentleman's presumptuous urging of his unlikely son's cause. + +"I am of the opinion, sir," Colonel Price replied, with a good bit of +hauteur and heat, "that my daughter always has given, and always will +give, the preference to brains!" + +General Bryant had not spoken to the colonel for two months after that, +and his son Shelley had proved his superiority by going off to Kansas +City and taking a job reading gas-meters. + +Colonel Price went to the mantel and filled his pipe from the +tobacco-jar. He sat smoking for a little while, his paper on his knee. + +"The lad's in deeper trouble, I'm afraid, than he understands," said he +at last, as if continuing his reflections aloud, "and it may take a +bigger heave to pull him out than any of us think right now." + +"Oh, I hope not," said Alice, looking across at him suddenly, her eyes +wide open with concern. "I understood that this was just a preliminary +proceeding, a sort of formality to conform to the legal requirements, +and that he would be released when they brought him up before Judge +Maxwell. At least, that was the impression that he gave me of the case +himself." + +"Joe is an unsophisticated and honest lad," said the colonel. "There is +something in the case that he refused to disclose or discuss before the +coroner's jury, they say. I don't know what it is, but it's in relation +to the quarrel between him and Isom Chase which preceded the tragedy. He +seems to raise a point of honor on it, or something. I heard them say +this afternoon that it was nothing but the fear that it would disclose +his motive for the crime. They say he was making off with old Chase's +money, but I don't believe that." + +"They're wrong if they think that," said she, shaking her head +seriously, "he'd never do a thing like that." + +"No, I don't believe he would. But they found a bag of money in the +room, old Chase had it clamped in the hook of his arm, they say." + +"Well, I'm sure Joe Newbolt never had his hands on it, anyhow," said +she. + +"That's right," approved the colonel, nodding in slow thoughtfulness; +"we must stand up for him, for his own sake as well as Peter's. He's +worthy." + +"And he's innocent. Can't you see that, father?" + +"As plain as daylight," the colonel said. + +The colonel stretched out his legs toward the blaze, crossed his feet +and smoked in comfort. + +"But I wonder what it can be that the boy's holding back?" + +"He has a reason for it, whatever it is," she declared. + +"That's as certain as taxes," said the colonel. "He's a remarkable boy, +considering the chances he's had--bound out like a nigger slave, and +beaten and starved, I'll warrant. A remark-able lad; very, very. Don't +you think so, Alice?" + +"I think he is, indeed," said she. + +A long silence. + +A stick in the chimney burned in two, the heavy ends outside the dogs +dropped down, the red brands pointing upward. The colonel put his hand +to his beard and sat in meditation. The wind was rising. Now and then it +sounded like a groan in the chimney-top. Gray ashes formed, frost-like, +over the ardent coals. The silence between them held unbroken. + +Both sat, thought-wandering, looking into the fire.... + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +UNTIL THE DAY BREAK + + +Although Isom Chase had been in his grave a week, and Judge Little had +been cracking his coat-tails over the road between his home and the +county-seat daily, the matter of the will and the administration of the +estate remained as in the beginning. + +Judge Little had filed the will for probate, and had made application +for letters of administration, which the court had denied. Under the +terms of the will, it was pointed out, he was empowered to act in that +capacity only in case of the testator's death before the majority of the +legatee. The date of the document proved that the heir was now long past +his majority, and the only interest that remained to Judge Little in the +matter seemed to be the discovery of the testator's unknown, unseen, and +unbelieved-in son. + +If Isom ever had fathered a son, indeed, and the child had died in +infancy, the fact had slipped the recollection of the oldest settler. +Perhaps the proof of that mysterious matter lay in the hands of the two +witnesses to Isom's will. They should know, if anybody knew, people +said. + +One of these witnesses, Thomas Cogshawl, had died long since, and there +remained behind neither trace nor remembrance of him save a leaning, +yellowed tombstone carrying the record of his achievements in this +world. They were succinctly recounted in two words: Born and Died. His +descendants were scattered, his family dispersed. + +The other witness, John Owens, was in the county poorhouse, deaf, dumb, +and blind, his children dead, his money gone. Communication with him, +except by prods and thumps, had been out of the question for ten years +and more. + +On the advice of her neighbors, Ollie had engaged a lawyer to guard her +interests, and make a fight in the courts, if it came to that, in an +effort to retain the property. It was a shame, said the neighbors; Isom +never had a son, or, if he did have one, he had no business to do any +such surreptitious fathering. + +While they denounced Isom, Judge Little was advertising in the +metropolitan papers for the mysterious legatee, for there is no man so +faithful to his trust as the administrator of another's estate. Although +the property had not yet succeeded to his hands, the judge was +proceeding in confidence. If the existence of Isom Chase's son could not +be proved, neither could it be disproved. + +And there stood the will in Isom's writing as plain as cow tracks, +naming him as administrator. It would all work into his hands at the +end, and there were rewards and emoluments for an administrator who +understood his business, in that estate. + +That is true in the case of any executor in the affairs of dead men, or +receiver in the muddled business of the living. That accounts for such +men's inflexibility in carrying out the provisions of unfeeling +testators and the decrees of heartless courts. The law must be applied +to the letter, the wishes of the deceased fulfilled to the last hateful +particular, for the longer the administrator or receiver is in place, +the longer flows the soothing stream of fees. + +Ollie had passed out of the brief tranquillity which had settled on her +after the inquest and funeral. Worry had overtaken her again, and a +longing for the return of Morgan, which seemed destined never to be +quieted. + +There was not so much concern for her in the ultimate disposal of Isom's +estate, for she had consoled herself all along, since the discovery of +the will, that she would soon be above the need of his miserly scrapings +and hoarded revenues of stint. Morgan would come, triumphant in his +red-wheeled buggy, and bear her away to the sweet recompense of love, +and the quick noises of life beyond that drowsy place. For Morgan, and +love, she could give it all over without one regret, or a glance +behind. + +Yet, with the thought of what she already had given for Morgan and love +a quick catching of pain, a troubled stirring bordering on panic, rose +in her breast. Where was Morgan, why did he remain away when he might +come boldly now, like a man, and claim his own? What if Morgan never +should come back? What if she should find herself a double widow, bereft +of both the living and the dead? + +During her days she watched for him, straining her eyes up and down the +dust-white road. At night her cheek burned upon her pillow, and her +tears ran down, yearning for the man who had her heart's love in his +keeping and seemed unworthy of the trust. + +At such times her anger would flame hot against Joe. If he had not come +into her affairs and muddled them, like a calf in a kitchen, all of this +uncertainty and longing would have been spared her. And it would be like +the fool now, the miserable, bleating bull-calf, to turn back on his +word and betray her. In that case, what should she do? Bow her head, +meekly, and bear him out? She did not think so. There was little chance +that anybody would credit Joe if he should turn now on his own evidence, +less if she should maintain that his first version of the tragedy was +true. For what he had done by his impertinent meddling between her and +Morgan he deserved to suffer. He must grin and bear it now, said she. + +Besides this feeling of revenge on Joe's luckless head, Ollie had her +reasons of selfishness and security for desiring him out of the way. +With him in prison for a long time--people said it would be for +life--the secret of her indiscretion with Morgan would be safe. And +then, if Morgan never came back, perhaps another. + +But she recoiled from the thought that they might hang Joe for the +murder of Isom. She did not want him hung, for through her gathering +cloud of blame for his too faithful guardianship of his master's house, +she had gleams of tenderness and gratitude for him. She could not help +comparing him with Morgan in such moments of softness. Morgan had let +that boy drive him away; he seemed to have gone with such a terror of +him that he never had looked back. Joe, on the other hand, had stood by +her through the storm. No, she did not want them to hang Joe, but it +would be quite easy and comfortable with him out of the way for a long, +long time. + +Public opinion was framing toward giving her the relief that she +desired. If anybody suspected that Ollie was concerned in her husband's +death, it was some remote person whose opinion did not affect the public +mind. The current belief was that Joe alone was to blame. + +No matter how severe the world may be upon a woman after she is down in +the mire, there is no denying that it is reluctant to tumble her from +her eminence and throw her there. A woman will find more champions than +detractors in the face of the most serious charge; especially a young +and pretty one, or one whose life has been such as to shape sympathy for +her in itself. + +All her neighbors knew that Isom's wife had suffered. That year of +penance in her life brought Ollie before them in a situation which was +an argument and plea for their sympathy and support. + +In spite, then, of the coroner's attempt at the inquest to drag Ollie +into the tragedy, and to give foundation for his shrewd suspicion that +there had been something between Isom's wife and bondman which the +husband was unaware of, no sensation nor scandal had come of that. The +case was widely talked of, and it was the hope of every voter in the +county that he would be drawn on the jury to try the boy accused of the +murder. Even the busiest farmers began to plan their affairs so they +would have at least one day to spare to attend the trial at its most +interesting point. + +The date set for the trial was approaching, and so was election day. The +prosecuting attorney, being up for reelection, hadn't time, at that busy +hour, to try a homicide case. He had to make speeches, and bestir +himself to save his valuable services to the state. The man penned in +jail, growing thin of cheek and lank of limb, could wait. There would be +other homicide cases, but there never would be another prosecuting +attorney so valuable as that one offering himself, and his young +ambitions, on the altar of public service. That was according to his +view. So he notified Hammer that the state would not be ready for trial +on the day set. + +This pleased Hammer well enough, for the greater the delay the wider the +notoriety of the case would spread, the larger his audience would be. By +mutual agreement, the case was put over for one month. + +Joe protested against this delay in vain. Hammer said that they would +profit by it, as the ferment of the public mind would settle meantime, +and prejudice would not be so sharp. He talked a great deal about +"character witnesses," which Joe couldn't see the need of, and took down +the names of all the people whom Joe could name as having known him all +his life. Then Hammer went his way, to make speeches in the campaign in +support of the worthy sheriff. + +So Joe found himself with another month ahead of him before he could +even hope to walk out into the sun again. + +Jail was wearing on him. The disgrace of it was torture to his sensitive +mind, without the physical chafing to pull him down to bones. Those two +weeks had taken off his frame a great deal of the flesh that he had +gained during the summer. His gauntness was more pronounced than it ever +had been before. + +Mrs. Newbolt walked in twice a week to see him, carrying with her a +basket of biscuits and other homely things dear to her son's palate. All +of which the sheriff speared with knitting-needles, and tried on various +domestic animals, to make certain that the Widow Newbolt did not cheat +the gallows out of its due by concealing saws in pies, or introducing +poison to her hopeless offspring in boiled eggs. + +But all of her tempting relishes, or such of them, at least, as reached +Joe, were powerless to fill his hollow cheeks, growing thinner and paler +day by day. He could not eat with relish, he could not sleep with peace. +If it had not been for the new light that Alice Price had brought into +his life, he must have burned his young heart to ashes in his +restiveness. + +Twice again the colonel and Alice had visited Joe, once to carry to him +the books for which he had expressed a desire, and again to bring the +_Meditations of Marcus Aurelius_, which Alice herself had gone after to +Judge Maxwell's house. Each time Joe fancied that she left a radiance +behind her that brightened and warmed his cell for days. + +Nobody else in the town troubled himself about the prisoner's welfare, +for nobody else knew him. Two of the ministers had called at the jail in +the first days of Joe's incarceration, in a sort of urging-to-penitence +state of mind, just as if they were assured of Joe's guilt by reason of +his very obscurity. Joe had told them that he had a religion of his own +which seemed to fill all present needs, and did not want to make any +change. He was respectful, but lofty in his bearing. So they put him +down as a stiff-necked son of Belial, and went away, leaving him to save +himself if he thought he was equal to the task, in a manner of +challenge. + +In the face of this clerical abandonment, people wondered over the deep +interest that Colonel Price and his daughter seemed to have in the Widow +Newbolt's son, who had neither pride of family nor of possessions to +recommend him. + +Joe had not yet brought himself to the belief that it was necessary to +take his lawyer into his confidence, although Hammer had made it +unfeelingly plain to him that the withholding of any vital fact would be +fatal to his cause. Although Joe was beginning to experience a deep and +disquieting concern about the outcome of the trial, he was disposed to +give Morgan an honest man's chance to come forward and take his share of +it upon himself. If he should do that, then Joe felt that he would be +morally free to disclose all that took place in the kitchen on the night +Isom lost his life. + +In case that Morgan did not come, or that he had gone beyond the reach +of Hammer or anybody else to fetch him back, then there would not be one +word of evidence to uphold him, or justify his seemingly ridiculous +stand of reticence. Yet, perhaps Morgan was waiting until the trial day; +perhaps he knew all about it, and would appear in time. So argued Joe, +in his great desire to be just to everybody. + +He reviewed the matter in this wise with ceaseless repetition, always +arriving at this same end, from which he drew the comfort of hope. +Perhaps Morgan would come in time. At any event, he would wait until the +last minute of the last hour, and give him a man's chance to do what was +honorable and fair. + +The talkative horse-thief had been tried and condemned, and had gone his +cheerful way to the penitentiary to serve three years. Before leaving he +had taken pains to sound again his forecast of what was waiting Joe +"down the river," in case they did not give him the "quick and +painless." He never had forgiven Joe his unwillingness to gossip with +him in jail. The fellow's vindictiveness was evident in the sneering +delight that he took on his last night in jail in calling Joe out of his +sleep, or pretended sleep, to hear his description of the terrors +waiting a man condemned to prison for life. + +Now that he was gone, Joe felt that his words lived after him, like mold +upon the walls, or a chilling damp between the stones. The recollection +of them could not be denied his abnormally sharpened senses, nor the +undoubted truth of their terrifying picture shut out of his imagination +by any door of reasoning that he had the strength to close. Condemnation +to prison would mean the suspension of all his young hopes and healthy +desires; it would bring him to the end of his activities in the world as +suddenly as death. Considering ambition, love, happiness, men in prison +were already dead. They lived only in their faculty for suffering. + +Would Morgan come to save him from that fate? That was his sole +speculation upon a solution of his pressing trouble. Without Morgan, Joe +did not consider any other way. + +Colonel Price had received lately a commission for a corn picture from a +St. Louis hotel, upon which he was working without pause. He had reached +that state of exalted certainty in relation to corn that he never was +obliged to put aside his colors and wait the charge of inspiration. His +inspirational tide always was setting in when corn was the subject. Work +with the colonel in such case was a matter of daylight. + +On account of the order, the colonel had no time for Joe, for art with +him, especially corn art, was above the worries and concerns of all men. +He did not forget the prisoner in the white heat of his commission. For +several days he had it in his mind to ask Alice to visit him, and carry +to him the assurance of the continuance of the family interest and +regard. But it was an unconventional thing to request of a young lady; a +week slipped past before the colonel realized it while he temporized in +his mind. + +At last he approached it circuitously and with a great deal of +diplomatic concealment of his purpose, leaving ample room for retreat +without unmasking his intention, in case he should discern indications +of unwillingness. + +By that time the election was over and the country regularly insured +against anarchy, devastation, and ruin for two years longer. The +prosecuting attorney and the sheriff had been reelected; the machinery +of the law was ready to turn at the grist. + +The colonel was pleased to see that Alice seconded him in his admission +that they had been treating Joe Newbolt shamefully. Of course the +sheriff was partly to blame for that, having set himself up with +metropolitan importance, now that he was secure in office. He had put +aside Wednesday as the one day of the week on which visitors, other than +relatives or counsel of prisoners, would be permitted to enter the +jail. + +It chanced to be a Wednesday morning when the colonel got around to it +finally, and they agreed heartily and warmly that somebody ought to go +and carry a little gleam of cheer and encouragement to Joe. The colonel +looked at his unfinished picture, then at the mellow light of the autumn +day, so much like the soul of corn itself, and then at Alice. He lifted +his eyebrows and waved his hands in a gesture of helplessness. + +"Never mind," said she; "you go ahead with the picture; I'll go alone." + +The colonel blessed her, and turned to his picture with a great sigh of +relief. Alice left him to prepare for her visit, a flutter of eagerness +in her heart, a feeling of timid nervousness which was unaccountable and +strange. + +She was not accustomed to trembling at the thought of meeting young men. +Usually she went forward to the ordeal with a smile, which the victim +would not have gathered a great deal of pleasure from, in most cases, if +he had been able to read, for he would have seen her appraisement of him +on her lips. There was none of this amusing measurement of Joe, no +sounding of his shallows with her quick perception like a sunbeam +finding the pebbles in the bottom of a brook. There was something in his +presence which seemed like a cool wind on the forehead, palpable, yet +profound from the mystery of its source. + +She had been surprised by the depth of this unpromising subject, to whom +she had turned at first out of pity for his mother. The latent beauties +of his rugged mind, full of the stately poetry of the old Hebrew +chronicles, had begun to unfold to her sympathetic perception in the +three visits she had made in her father's company. Each visit had +brought some new wonder from that crude storehouse of his mind, where +Joe had been hoarding quaint treasures all his lonely, companionless +years. + +And Joe, even in his confinement, felt that he was free in a larger +sense than he ever had been before. He was shaking out his wings and +beginning to live understandingly and understood. It was beyond him to +believe it sometimes; beyond him always to grasp the reality of Alice +Price, and her friendship for one so near the dust as he. + +What was there about the poor folks' boy, bound out but yesterday to +Isom Chase, and still bound to his estate under the terms of his +articles? What was there in him to reach out and touch the sympathies of +this beautiful young woman, who came to him with the scent of violets in +her hair? Others had despised him for his poverty, and fastened a name +upon him which was in itself a reproach. And still misunderstanding, +they had carried him off to prison, charged with a dark and hideous +crime. Now this light had come to him in his despair, like the beam of +that white star above the Judean plains. Like that star, she would stand +far off to guide him, and exalt his soul by its strivings to attain her +level. There their relations must cease. He might yearn his heart away +in the gulf that lay between them, and stretch out his empty hands for +evermore, never to feel its nearer warmth upon his breast. He was the +poor folks' boy. + +There was a wan sun on the day she came alone to the jail, a day so long +remembered by Joe and held by him so dear. A solemn wind was roaming the +tree-tops outside his cell window; the branches stood bleak and bare +against the mottled sky. + +Alice wore a dress of some soft gray material, which seemed to embrace +her in warm comfort, and reveal her in a new and sprightly loveliness. +Her rippled hair was free upon her temples, her ear peeped out from +beneath it with a roguish tint upon it, as if it waited to be kissed, +and blushed for its own temerity. A gay little highland bonnet rode the +brown billows of her abundant hair, saucy and bold as a corsair, with +one bright little feather at its prow. Perhaps it was no more than a +goose quill, or a cock's plume dipped in dye, but to Joe it seemed as +glorious as if it had been plucked from the fairest wing in the gardens +of paradise. + +The marvel of it came over Joe again as he stood close against the bars +to greet her. She, so rare and fine, so genteel and fair, caring enough +for him and his unpromising fate to put aside the joyous business of her +unhampered life and seek him in that melancholy place. It seemed a +dream, yet she was there, her delicate dark brows lifted questioningly, +as if uncertain that he would approve her unconventional adventure, a +smile in the depths of her serene, frank eyes. Her cheeks were glowing +from the sparks of morning, and her ungloved hand was reaching out to +meet him. + +He clasped it, and welcomed her with joy that he could not have +simulated any more than he could have hidden. There was a tremor in his +voice; a hot sweep of blood flamed in his face like a confession of his +secret soul. + +"I never saw you look so tall," said he slowly, measuring her with +adoring eyes. + +"Maybe it's the dress," said she, looking herself over with a little +expressive sweep of the hands, as if to put all the blame on that +innocent nun-gray gown, if there was blame to be borne. + +She wore a little bunch of mignonette upon her breast, just at the point +where the slashing of her bodice ended, and the gray gave way to a wedge +of virginal white, as if her sempstress had started to lay bare her +heart. The flowers quivered as from some internal agitation, nestling +their pale gold spikes against their lovely bed. + +"I don't know that it's the dress," said he, "but you do look taller +than usual, it seems to me." + +She laughed, as if she found humor in his solemn repetition of such a +trivial discovery. + +"Well, I can't help being tall," she said. "How tall would you have a +lady grow? How tall do you think one ought to be?" + +"'As high as my heart,'" said Joe, remembering _Orlando's_ words. + +The color deepened in her cheeks; she caught her breath with a little +"Oh!" + +She wondered what sprout of blue-blooded and true-blooded nobility in +Shelbyville there was capable of turning a reply like that without +straining for it more than that pale cavalier with his worn clothing +hanging loose upon his bony frame. When she ventured to lift her eyes to +his face, she found him grasping a bar of the cell door with one hand, +as if he would tear it from its frame. His gaze was fixed upon the high +window, he did not turn. She felt that he was struggling with himself +that moment, but whether to drive to speech or to withhold it, she could +not tell. + +"I wish I could go out there and run about five miles this morning," he +sighed. + +She gave him sigh for sigh, feeling that something was lost. He had not +striven with himself merely to say that. But from there they went on to +talk of his coming trial, and to expose the mutual hope that no further +excuse would be advanced for its continuance. He seemed to be certain +that the trial would see an end of his difficulty, and she trembled to +contemplate any other outcome. + +So they stood and talked, and her face was glowing and her eyes were +bright. + +"Your cheeks are as red as bitter-sweet," said he. + +"There was frost last night," she laughed, "and the cool wind makes my +face burn." + +"I know just how it feels," said he, looking again toward the window +with pathetic wistfulness, the hunger of old longings in his eyes. + +"It will not be long now until you are free," she said in low voice of +sympathy. + +He was still looking at the brown branches of the bare elm, now palely +touched with the cloud-filtered autumn sun. + +"I know where there's lots of it," said he, as if to himself, "out in +the hills. It loves to ramble over scrub-oak in the open places where +there's plenty of sun. I used to pick armloads of it the last year I +went to school and carry it to the teacher. She liked to decorate the +room with it." + +He turned to her with apologetic appeal, as if to excuse himself for +having wandered away from her in his thoughts. + +"I put it over the mantel," she nodded; "it lasts all winter." + +"The wahoo's red now, too," said he. "Do you care for it?" + +"It doesn't last as long as bitter-sweet," said she. + +"Bitter-sweet," said he reflectively, looking down into the shadows +which hung to the flagstones of the floor. Then he raised his eyes to +hers and surprised them brimming with tears, for her heart was aching +for him in a reflection of his own lonely pain. + +"It is emblematic of life," said he, reaching his hand out through the +bars to her, as if to beg her not to grieve over the clouds of a day; +"you know there are lots of comparisons and verses and sayings about it +in that relation. It seems to me that I've always had more of the bitter +than the sweet--but it will all come out right in time." + +She touched his hand. + +"Do you like mignonette?" she asked. "I've brought you some." + +"I love it!" said he with boyish impetuosity. "I had a bed of it +last--no, I mean the summer before last--before I was--before I went to +work for Isom." + +She took the flowers from her bosom and placed them in his hand. The +scent of them was in his nostrils, stirring memories of his old days of +simple poverty, of days in the free fields. Again he turned his face +toward the window, the little flowers clutched in his hand. His breast +heaved as if he fought in the deep waters of his soul against some +ignoble weakness. + +She moved a little nearer, and reached timidly through the bars with the +breathless quiet of one who offers a caress to a sleeper. Her +finger-tips touched his arm. + +"Joe," said she, as if appealing in pity to him for permission to share +his agony. + +He lifted the flowers to his lips and kissed the stems where her hand +had clasped them; then bowed his head, his strong shoulders against the +bars. + +"Joe!" Her voice was a whisper in his ear, more than pity in it, so it +seemed to him in the revelation of that moment; more than entreaty, more +than consolation. + +Her hand was on his arm; he turned to her, shaking the fallen locks of +his wild hair back from his brow. Then her hand was in his, and there +was a warm mist, as of summer clouds, before his eyes. Her face was +before him, and near--so near. Not red like the bitter-sweet, but pale +as the winter dawn. Her eyes were wide, her chin was lifted, and he was +straining her to him with the jail door bars against his breast. + +Love comes that way, and death; and the blow of sorrow; and the wrench +of life's last bitter pang. Only life is slow; tedious and laggard with +its burdens and its gleams. + +He remembered in a moment; the pressure of the bars against his breast +recalled him to his sad estate. He released her hand and fell back a +step from her, a sharp cry on his lips as if he had seen her crushed and +mangled just beyond his reach. + +"I didn't mean to do that, Alice; I didn't mean to do that!" said he, +dropping to his knees before her as if struck down by a stunning blow. +He bowed his head in contrite humiliation. + +"I forgot where I was, Alice; I forgot!" + +There was no displeasure in her face as she stood panting before the +barred door, her hands to her heaving breast, her head thrown back. Her +lips were parted; there was a light of exaltation in her eyes, as of one +who has felt the benediction of a great and lasting joy. She put her +hand through the bars again, and touched his bowed head. + +"Don't do that, Joe," said she. + +The sheriff's key sounded in the lock of the corridor gate. + +"Time's up," he called. + +"All right; I'm coming," Alice returned. + +Joe stood, weak and trembling. He felt as if he had, in the heat of some +great passion, rashly risked life, and more than life; that he had only +now dragged his battered body back to the narrow, precarious ledge from +which he had leaped, and that safety was not his. + +"I must go now," said she, soft and low and in steady voice. "Good-bye." + +She gave him her hand, and he clung to it like a nestling fastening upon +the last branch interposing between it and destruction. + +"I forgot where I was," said he weakly, his shaken mind incapable of +comprehending things as they were, his abasement over the breach that he +had committed being so profound. She withdrew her hand. When it was gone +out of his, he remembered how warm it was with the tide of her young +body, and how soft for his own work-roughened fingers to meet and +enfold. + +"I must go now," said she again. Her feet sounded in the corridor as she +ran away. A little way along she stopped. She was beyond his sight, but +her voice sounded near him when she called back "Good-bye!" + +She had not gone in anger nor displeasure, thought he, getting hand of +his confused senses after a while, standing as she had left him, the +flowers in his hand. Strangely exulting, strangely thrilling, mounting a +moment like an eagle, plunging down now like a stone, Joe walked his +cell. + +What had he done, drawn on by that which he had read in her eyes in that +poignant moment! In jail, locked behind a grated door of steel, he had +taken her hand and drawn her to him until the shock of the bars had +called back his manhood. He had taken advantage of her friendship and +sympathy. + +Prison was no place for love; a man locked in jail charged with a +crime had no right to think of it. It was base of him, and unworthy. +Still--mounting again in a swift, delicious flight--it was sweet to +know what her eyes had told him, sweeter to rest assured that she had +not left him in scorn. Down again, a falling clod. Unless he had +misinterpreted them in the ignorance of his untutored heart. Yet, that +is a language that needs no lexicon, he knew. + +Who is so simple, indeed, as to be unaware of that? How different this +passion from that which Ollie's uncovered bosom had stirred; how he +burned with shame at the memory of that day! + +Up and down he strode the morning through, his long, thin legs now spare +in his boot-tops, his wide, bony shoulders sharp through his coat. The +strong light fell on his gaunt face as he turned toward the window; +shadows magnified its hollows when he turned toward the door. Now that +the panic of it had left him, the sweetness of it remained. + +How soft her hand was, how her yielding body swayed in his arm! How +delicious her breath was on his face; how near her eyes, speaking to +him, and her lips; how near her parted, warm, red lips! + +He took up the Book, and turned with trembling hands to a place that he +remembered well. There was something that he had read, not feeling, not +understanding, words of which came back to him now. The Songs of Songs, +Which is Solomon's. + +Ah, the Song of Songs! The music of it now was written in his heart. It +was not the song in glorification and exaltation of the church that the +translators had captioned it; not a song full of earthly symbols meant +to represent spiritual passions. Joe had read it, time and again, in +that application, and it had fallen flavorless upon his understanding. +No; it was the song of a strong man to the woman whom he loved. + +And the music of it, old but ever new in its human appeal, now was +written in his heart. + +Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speech is comely. Thou +art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.... Until the day break, +and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved.... + +Ah, until the day break! + +In his rapt exaltation the boy's face beamed as he strode swiftly the +length of his cell. It would not be long until daybreak now. The judge +would understand him, and would not press a man to tell what he had +delicate reasons for concealing, when the concealment could bring harm +to nobody, but boundless good to one weak creature who must wither +otherwise in the blaze of shame. + +He remembered the strong face and the long iron-gray hair of Judge +Maxwell; only a little while ago Joe had given him some apples which he +had stopped to admire as he drove past Isom's orchard in his sagging, +mud-splashed, old buggy. He was a good man; the uprightness of his life +spoke from his face. Judge Maxwell was a man to understand. + +Poor Ollie; poor weak, shrinking Ollie! Her frightened eyes glowed hot +in his memory of the day of the inquest, carrying to him their appeal. +Poor, mistaken, unguided Ollie! He would protect her to the last, as he +had done at the beginning, and trust and hope that the judge, and Alice, +and the colonel, and the whole world, would understand in due and proper +time. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +DESERTED + + +John Owens, the surviving witness to Isom Chase's will, spent his dreary +days at the poorhouse whittling long chains of interlocking rings, and +fantastic creatures such as the human eye never beheld in nature, out of +soft pine-wood. He had taken up that diversion shortly after the last of +his afflictions, blindness, fell upon him and, as white pine was cheap, +the superintendent of the institution indulged him without stint. + +Uncle John, as he was called long years before the hard-riding world +threw him, was a preacher back in the days of his youth, middling +manhood and prosperity. He had ridden the country in the Campbellite +faith, bringing hundreds into the fold, with a voice as big as a bull's, +and a long beard, which he wore buttoned under his vest in winter. And +now in his speechlessness, darkness, and silence, he still preached in +his way, carving out the beast with seven heads and ten horns, and +female figures of hideous mien, the signification of which nobody +rightly knew. + +Uncle John had a little slate upon which he wrote his wants, but nobody +had discovered any way of communicating with him save by taking his hand +and guiding it to the object for which he had asked. For a long time he +had written the one word "Paint" on his slate. That was the beginning of +his use of it, when one word was all that he could get on a side of it +at a time. After his fingers had become sensitive through his new art of +whittling and feeling, he improved his writing, until he made it plain +that he wanted paint to adorn his carved figures, so they could be +sold. + +It was the hope of the poor old soul that he could whittle himself out +of the poorhouse, and live free and independent upon the grotesque +productions of his knife, if they would give him paint to make them +attractive, and thus get a start. He did not know how fantastic and +ridiculous they were, having only his own touch to guide him to judgment +of their merits. + +Perhaps he was no less reasonable in this belief than certain painters, +musicians, and writers, who place their own blind value upon the craft +of their hands and brains, and will not set them aside for any jury that +the world can impanel. + +Uncle John never came to realize his hopes of freedom, any more than he +ever came to realize the uselessness of paint for his angels when he had +no eyes for applying it. He whittled on, in melancholy dejection, ring +upon ring in his endless chains of rings, forging in bitter irony the +emblems of bondage, when his old heart so longed to be free. + +It was a bright day in the life of Uncle John Owens, then, when Ollie's +lawyer called at the poorhouse and placed under his hands some slender +slips of cardboard bearing raised letters, the A B C of his age. + +His bearded old face shone like a window in which a light has been +struck as his fluttering fingers ran over the letters. He fumbled +excitedly for his slate which hung about his neck, and his hand trembled +as he wrote: + +"More--book--more." + +It had been an experiment, the lawyer having doubted whether Uncle +John's untrained fingers, dulled by age, could pick out the letters, +large as they were. He had nothing more to offer, therefore, and no way +of answering the appeal. But that night an order for the New Testament +in raised characters for the blind went out from Shelbyville. + +Judge Little was making no progress in establishing the will. Nobody had +come forward in answer to his advertisements in the city papers, +claiming for himself the distinction of being Isom Chase's son. But the +judge gave Ollie to understand, in spite of his quiescence while he +searched for the heir, that the courts must settle the question. If +there were fees to be had out of that estate, Judge Little was the man +to get them. + +Meantime, in his cell in the county jail, Joe Newbolt was bearing the +heaviest penance of his life. Alice had not come again. Two visiting +days had passed, and there would be no more before the date of the +trial, which was set for the following Monday. But since that dun +morning when she had given him the mignonette, and he had drawn her +unresisting body to the barrier of his prison door, she had visited him +no more. + +Joe reproached himself for it. He accused himself of having offended +beyond forgiveness. In the humiliation which settled upon him, he wasted +like water in the sun. The mignonette which she had given him withered, +dried; its perfume vanished, its blossoms turned gray. She came no more. +What did it matter if they convicted him before the judge, said he, now +that Alice had condemned him in her heart. He lamented that he had +blundered into such deep offending. His untutored heart had seen only +the reflection of his own desire in her eyes that day. She did not care +for him. It was only pity that he had distorted into love. + +He had inquired about her, timidly, of the sheriff, who had looked at +him with a slow wink, then formed his mouth into an egg-shaped aperture +and held it so an exasperating while, as if he meant to whistle. The +sheriff's clownish behavior nettled Joe, for he was at a loss to +understand what he meant. + +"I thought maybe she'd sent over some books," said Joe, blushing like a +hollyhock. + +"Books!" said the sheriff, with a grunt. + +"Yes, sir," Joe answered, respectfully. + +"Huh, she never sent no books," said the sheriff, turning away. + +After a little he came back and stood before Joe's door, with his long +legs far apart, studying the prisoner calculatively, as a farmer stands +when he estimates the weight of a hog. + +"Cree-mo-nee!" said he. + +He laughed then, much to Joe's confusion, and totally beyond his +comprehension. The sheriff left him with that. From the passage his +laugh came back. + +The day was Friday; Joe plucked up a little hope when he heard the +sheriff conducting somebody to the corridor gate. It was Colonel Price, +who had exercised his political influence over the sheriff and induced +him to set aside his new regulations for the day. The colonel made +apologies to Joe for what might seem his lack of interest in his +welfare. + +Joe inquired of him concerning Alice, with respectful dignity. She was +well, said the colonel, and asked to be remembered. What else the +colonel said on that occasion Joe did not recall. All that he could +think of was that Alice had desired to be remembered. + +What an ironical message to send him, thought Joe. If she only had come +herself, and given him the assurance with her eyes that there was no +stored censure, no burning reproach; if she had come, and quieted the +doubt, the uncertainty, of his self-tortured soul. His case had become +secondary beside Alice. The colonel talked of it, but Joe wondered if +the mignonette in her garden was dead. The colonel shook his head +gravely when he went away from the jail that day. It was plain that the +boy was suffering with that load on his mind and the uncertainty of the +outcome pressing upon him. He mentioned it to Alice. + +"I think we'd better try to get him another lawyer," said the colonel. +"Hammer never will be equal to that job. It will be more the size of +Judge Burns, or one of the old heads. That boy's in a pickle, Alice, and +a mighty tight one, at that." + +"But he's innocent--you don't doubt that?" said she. + +"Not for a minute," the colonel declared. "I guess I should have been +looking after him closer, but that picture intervened between us. He's +wearing away to a shadow, chafing and pining there in jail, poor chap." + +"Do you think he'll consent to your employing another lawyer for him?" +she asked, searching his face wistfully. + +"I don't know; he's so set in the notion of loyalty to Hammer--just as +if anybody could hurt Hammer's feelings! If the boy will consent to it, +I'll hire Judge Burns at my own expense." + +"I don't suppose he will," sighed she. + +"No, I reckon not, his notions are so high-flown," the colonel admitted, +with evident pride in the lofty bearing of the widow's son. + +"He's longing for a run over the hills," said she. "He told me he was." + +"A year of it in there would kill him," the colonel said. "We must get +him a lawyer who can disentangle him. I never saw anybody go down like +that boy has gone down in the last month. It's like taking a wild Indian +out of the woods and putting him in a cage." + +The colonel put aside the corn picture for the day, and went out to +confer with Judge Burns, a local lawyer who had gained a wide reputation +in the defense of criminal cases. He was a doubly troubled man when he +returned home that evening, for Joe had been firm in his refusal either +to dismiss Hammer or admit another to his defense. In the library he had +found Alice, downcast and gloomy, on the margin of tears. + +"Why, honey, you mustn't mope around this way," he remonstrated gently. +"What is it--what's gone wrong with my little manager?" + +She raised up from huddling her head against her arms on the table, +pushed her fallen hair back from her eyes and gave him a wan smile. + +"I just felt so lonely and depressed somehow," said she, placing her +hand on his where it lay on the table. "Never mind me, for I'll be all +right. What did he say?" + +"Judge Burns?" + +"Joe." + +The colonel drew a chair near and sat down, flinging out his hand with +impatient gesture. + +"I can't do anything with him," said he. "He says one lawyer will do as +well as another, and Hammer's doing all that can be done. 'They'll +believe me or they'll not believe me, colonel, and that's all there is +to it,' says he, 'and the best lawyer in the world can't change that.' +And I don't know but he's right, too," the colonel sighed. "He's got to +come out with that story, every word of it, or there'll never be a jury +picked in the whole State of Missouri that'll take any stock in his +testimony." + +"It will be a terrible thing for his mother if they don't believe him," +said she. + +"We'll do all that he'll allow us to do for him, we can't do any more. +It's a gloomy outlook, a gloomy case all through. It was a bad piece of +business when that mountain woman bound him out to old Isom Chase, to +take his kicks and curses and live on starvation rations. He's the last +boy in the world that you'd conceive of being bound out; he don't fit +the case at all." + +"No, he doesn't," said she, reflectively. + +"But don't let the melancholy thing settle on you and disturb you, +child. He'll get out of it--or he'll not--one way or the other, I +reckon. It isn't a thing for you to take to heart and worry over. I +never should have taken you to that gloomy old jail to see him, at +all." + +"I can't forget him there--I'll always see him there!" she shuddered. +"He's above them all--they'll never understand him, never in this +world!" + +She got up, her hair hanging upon her shoulders, and left him abruptly, +as if she had discovered something that lay in her heart. Colonel Price +sat looking after her, his back very straight, his hand upon his knee. + +"Well!" said he. Then, after a long ruminative spell: "Well!" + +That same hour Hammer was laboring with his client in the jail, as he +had labored fruitlessly before, in an endeavor to induce him to impart +to him the thing that he had concealed at the coroner's inquest into +Isom Chase's death. Hammer assured him that it would not pass beyond him +in case that it had no value in establishing his innocence. + +"Mr. Hammer, sir," said Joe, with unbending dignity and firmness, "if +the information you ask of me was mine to give, freely and honorably, +I'd give it. You can see that. Maybe something will turn up between now +and Monday that will make a change, but if not, you'll have to do the +best you can for me the way it stands. Maybe I oughtn't expect you to go +into the court and defend me, seeing that I can't help you any more than +I'm doing. If you feel that you'd better drop out of the case, you're +free to do it, without any hard feelings on my part, sir." + +Hammer had no intention of dropping the case, hopeless as he felt the +defense to be. Even defeat would be glorious, and loss profitable, for +his connection with the defense would sound his name from one end of the +state to the other. + +"I wouldn't desert you in the hour of your need, Joe, for anything they +could name," said Hammer, with significant suggestion. + +His manner, more than his words, carried the impression that they had +named sums, recognizing in him an insuperable barrier to the state's +case, but that he had put his tempters aside with high-born scorn. + +"Thank you," said Joe. + +"But if Missis Chase was mixed up in it any way, I want you to tell me, +Joe," he pressed. + +Joe said nothing. He looked as stiff and hard as one of the iron +hitching-posts in front of the court-house, thought Hammer, the side of +his face turned to the lawyer, who measured it with quick eyes. + +"Was she, Joe?" whispered Hammer, leaning forward, his face close to the +bars. + +"The coroner asked me that," replied Joe, harshly. + +This unyielding quality of his client was baffling to Hammer, who was of +the opinion that a good fatherly kick might break the crust of his +reserve. Hammer had guessed the answer according to his own thick +reasoning, and not very pellucid morals. + +"Well, if you take the stand, Joe, they'll make you tell it then," +Hammer warned him. "You'd better tell me in advance, so I can advise you +how much to say." + +"I'll have to get on somehow without your advice, thank you sir, Mr. +Hammer, when it comes to how much to say," said Joe. + +"There's not many lawyers--and I'll tell you that right now in a +perfectly plain and friendly way--that'd go ahead with your case under +the conditions," said Hammer. "But as I told you, I'll stick to you and +see you through. I wash my hands of any blame for the case, Joe, if it +don't turn out exactly the way you expect." + +Joe saw him leave without regret, for Hammer's insistence seemed to him +inexcusably vulgar. All men could not be like him, reflected Joe, his +hope leaping forward to Judge Maxwell, whom he must soon confront. + +Joe tossed the night through with his longing for Alice, which gnawed +him like hunger and would not yield to sleep, for in his dreams his +heart went out after her; he heard her voice caressing his name. He woke +with the feeling that he must put the thought of Alice away from him, +and frame in his mind what he should say when it came his turn to stand +before Judge Maxwell and tell his story. If by some hinted thing, some +shade of speech, some qualification which a gentleman would grasp and +understand, he might convey his reason to the judge, he felt that he +must come clear. + +He pondered it a long time, and the face of the judge rose before him, +and the eyes were brown and the hair in soft wavelets above a white +forehead, and Alice stood in judgment over him. So it always ended; it +was before Alice that he must plead and justify himself. She was his +judge, his jury, and his world. + +It was mid-afternoon when Mrs. Newbolt arrived for her last visit before +the trial. She came down to his door in her somber dress, tall, bony and +severe, thinner of face herself than she had been before, her eyes +bright with the affection for her boy which her tongue never put into +words. Her shoes were muddy, and the hem of her skirt draggled, for, +high as she had held it in her heavy tramp, it had become splashed by +the pools in the soft highway. + +"Mother, you shouldn't have come today over the bad roads," said Joe +with affectionate reproof. + +"Lands, what's a little mud!" said she, putting down a small bundle +which she bore. "Well, it'll be froze up by tomorrow, I reckon, it's +turnin' sharp and cold." + +She looked at Joe anxiously, every shadow in his worn face carving its +counterpart in her heart. There was no smile of gladness on her lips, +for smiles had been so long apart from her life that the nerves which +commanded them had grown stiff and hard. + +"Yes," said Joe, taking up her last words, "winter will be here in a +little while now. I'll be out then, Mother, to lay in wood for you. It +won't be long now." + +"Lord bless you, son!" said she, the words catching in her throat, tears +rising to her eyes and standing so heavy that she must wipe them away. + +"It will all be settled next week," Joe told her confidently. + +"I hope they won't put it off no more," said she wearily. + +"No; Hammer says they're sure to go ahead this time." + +"Ollie drove over yesterday evening and brought your things from +Isom's," said she, lifting the bundle from the floor, forcing it to him +between the bars. "I brought you a couple of clean shirts, for I knew +you'd want one for tomorrow." + +"Yes, Mother, I'm glad you brought them," said Joe. + +"Ollie, she said she never would make you put in the rest of your time +there if she had anything to say about it. But she said if Judge Little +got them letters of administration he was after she expected he'd try to +hold us to it, from what he said." + +"No matter, Mother." + +"And Ollie said if she ever did come into Isom's property she'd make us +a deed to our place." + +Mrs. Newbolt's face bore a little gleam of hope when she told him this. +Joe looked at her kindly. + +"She could afford to, Mother," said he, "it was paid for in interest on +that loan to Isom." + +"But Isom, he never would 'a' give in to that," said she. "Your pap he +paid twelve per cent interest on that loan for sixteen years." + +"I figured it all up, Mother," said he. + +There was nothing for her to sit on in the corridor; she stood holding +to the bars to take some of the weight from her tired feet. + +"I don't want to hurry you off, Mother," said Joe, "but I hate to see +you standing there all tired out. If the sheriff was a gentleman he'd +fetch you a chair. I don't suppose there'd be any use in asking him." + +"Never mind, Joe, it takes more than a little walk like that to play me +out." + +"You'd better stop in at Colonel Price's and rest a while before you +start back," he suggested. + +"Maybe I will," said she. + +She plunged her hand into the black draw-string bag which she carried on +her arm, rummaging among its contents. + +"That little rambo tree you planted a couple of years ago had two apples +on it," she told him, "but I never noticed 'em all summer, the leaves +was so thick and it was such a little feller, anyhow." + +"It is a little one to begin bearing," said Joe, with a boy's interest +in a thing that he has done with his own hand turning out to be +something. + +"Yes; and I aimed to leave them on the tree till you could see them, but +the hard wind yesterday shook 'em off. Here they are, I've fetched 'em +to you, son." + +Joe took the apples, the recollection of the high hopes which he had +centered around that little apple-tree when he planted it coming back to +him like a scented wind at dawn. He had planned to make that tree the +nucleus of an orchard, which was to grow and spread until it covered the +old home place, the fields adjoining, and lifted the curse of poverty +from the Newbolt name. It had been a boyish plan which his bondage to +Isom Chase had set back. + +He had not given it up for a day while he labored in Chase's fields. +When he became his own man he always intended to take it up and put it +through. Now, there in his hand, was the first fruit of his big +intention, and in that moment Joe reviewed his old pleasant dream. + +He saw again as he had pictured it before, to the relief of many a long, +hot day in Isom's fields, his thousand trees upon the hills, the laden +wagons rolling to the station with his barrels of fruit, some of it to +go to far lands across the sea. He saw again the stately house with its +white columns and deep porticoes, in the halls of which his fancy had +reveled many a happy hour, and he saw--the bars of his stone cell and +his mother's work-hardened hands clasping them, while she looked at him +with the pain of her sad heart speaking from her eyes. A heavy tear +rolled down his hollow cheek and fell upon the apples in his hand. + +For the pain of prison he had not wept, nor for its shame. The vexing +circumstance of being misunderstood, the dread threat of the future had +not claimed a tear. But for a dream which had sprung like a sweet flower +in his young heart and had passed away like a mist, he wept. + +His mother knew nothing about that blasted dream; the gloom of his cell +concealed his tears. He rubbed the fruit along his coat sleeve, as if to +make it shine, as a fruiterer polishes the apples in his stall. + +"All right, Mother, I'm glad you brought them," he said, although there +was no gladness in his voice. + +"I planned to fetch you in some fried chicken today, too," said she, +"but the pesky rooster I had under the tub got away when I went to take +him out. If you'd like some, Joe, I'll come back tomorrow." + +"No, no; don't you tramp over here tomorrow, Mother," he admonished, +"and don't bother about the chicken. I don't seem to have any appetite +any more. But you wait till I'm out of here a day or two; then you'll +see me eat." + +"Well, then I guess I'll be goin' on back, Joe; and bright and early +Monday morning I'll be on hand at the court. Maybe we'll be able to go +home together that evenin', son." + +"Hammer says it will take two or three days," Joe told her, "but I don't +see what they can do to make it string out that long. I could tell them +all about it in ten minutes. So we mustn't put our hopes too high on +Monday, Mother." + +"I'll beseech the Lord all day tomorrow, son, to open their ears that +they may hear," said she solemnly. "And when the time comes to speak +tell it all, Joe, tell it all!" + +"Yes, Mother, when the time comes," said he gently. + +"Tell 'em all Isom said to you, son," she charged. + +"Don't you worry over that now, Mother." + +She felt that her son drew away from her, in his haughty manner of +self-sufficiency, as he spoke. She sighed, shaking her head sadly. +"Well, I'll be rackin' off home," she said. + +"If you stop at the colonel's to rest a while, Mother--and I wish you +would, for you're all tired out--you might hand this book back to Miss +Price. She loaned it to me. Tell her I read it long ago, and I'd have +sent it back before now, only I thought she might come after it herself +some time." + +His mother turned to him, a curious expression in her face. + +"Don't she come any more, Joe?" + +"She's been busy with other things, I guess," said he. + +"Maybe," she allowed, with a feeling of resentment against the book on +account of its cold, unfriendly owner. + +She had almost reached the corridor gate when Joe called after her. + +"No, don't tell her that," he requested. "Don't tell her anything. Just +hand it back, please, Mother." + +"Whatever you say, Joe." + +Joe heard the steel gate close after her and the sheriff's voice loud +above his mother's as they went toward the door. + +Loyal as he was to his mother, the thought of her went out with her, and +in her place stood the slender figure of youth, her lips "like a thread +of scarlet." One day more to wait for the event of his justification and +vindication, or at least the beginning of it, thought Joe. + +Ah, if Alice only would come to lighten the interval! + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE STATE _VS._ NEWBOLT + + +The court-house at Shelbyville was a red brick structure with long +windows. From the joints of its walls the mortar was falling. It lay all +around the building in a girdle of gray, like an encircling ant-hill, +upon the green lawn. Splendid sugar-maples grew all about the square, in +the center of which the court-house stood, and close around the +building. + +In a corner of the plaza, beneath the largest and oldest of these +spreading trees, stood a rotting block of wood, a section of a giant +tree-trunk, around which centered many of the traditions of the place. +It was the block upon which negro slaves had been auctioned in the fine +old days before the war. + +There was a bench beside the approach to the main door, made from one of +the logs of the original court-house, built in that square more than +sixty years before the day that Joe Newbolt stood to answer for the +murder of Isom Chase. The old men of the place sat there in the summer +days, whittling and chewing tobacco and living over again the stirring +incidents of their picturesque past. Their mighty initials were cut in +the tough wood of the bench, to endure long after them and recall +memories of the hands which carved them so strong and deep. + +Within the court-house itself all was very much like it had had been at +the beginning. The court-room was furnished with benches, the judge sat +behind a solemn walnut desk. The woodwork of the room was thick with +many layers of paint, the last one of them grim and blistered now, +scratched by stout finger-nails and prying knife-blades. The stairway +leading from the first floor ascended in a broad sweep, with a turn +half-way to the top. + +The wall along this stairway was battered and broken, as if the heels of +reluctant persons, dragged hither for justice to be pronounced upon +them, had kicked it in protest as they passed. It was as solemn and +gloomy a stairway as ever was seen in a temple of the law. Many had gone +up it in their generation in hope, to descend it in despair. Its treads +were worn to splinters; its balustrade was hacked by the knives of +generations of loiterers. There was no window in the wall giving upon +it; darkness hung over its first landing on the brightest day. The just +and the unjust alike were shrouded in its gloomy penumbra as they +passed. It was the solemn warder at the gate, which seemed to cast a +taint over all who came, and fasten a cloud upon them which they must +stand in the white light of justice to purge away. + +When the civil war began, the flag of the Union was taken down from the +cupola of the court-house. In all the years that had passed since its +close, the flag never had been hoisted to its place of honor again. That +event was not to take place, indeed, until twenty years or more after +the death of Isom Chase, when the third court-house was built, and the +old generation had passed away mainly, and those who remained of it had +forgotten. But that incident is an incursion into matters which do not +concern this tale. + +Monday morning came on dull and cloudy. Shelbyville itself was scarcely +astir, its breakfast fires no more than kindled, when the wagons of +farmers and the straggling troops of horsemen from far-lying districts +began to come in and seek hitching-room around the court-house square. +It looked very early in the day as if there was going to be an unusual +crowd for the unusual event of a trial for murder. + +Isom Chase had been widely known. His unsavory reputation had spread +wider than the sound of the best deeds of the worthiest man in the +county. It was not so much on account of the notoriety of the old man, +which had not died with him, as the mystery in the manner of his death, +that people were anxious to attend the trial. + +It was not known whether Joe Newbolt was to take the witness-stand in +his own behalf. It rested with him and his lawyer to settle that; under +the law he could not be forced to testify. The transcript of his +testimony at the inquest was ready at the prosecutor's hand. Joe would +be confronted with that, and, if there was a spark of spunk in him, +people said, he would rise up and stand by it. And then, once Sam Lucas +got him in the witness-chair, it would be all day with his evasions and +concealments. + +Both sides had made elaborate preparations for the trial. The state had +summoned forty witnesses; Hammer's list was half as long. It was a +question in the public speculation what either side expected to prove or +disprove with this train of people. Certainly, Hammer expected to prove +very little. His chief aim was to consume as much time before the jury +as possible, and disport himself in the public eye as long as he could +drag out an excuse. His witnesses were all from among the old settlers +in the Newbolt neighborhood over in Sni, who had the family record from +the date of the Kentucky hegira. They were summoned for the purpose of +sustaining and adding color to the picture which Hammer intended to draw +of his client's well-known honesty and clean past. + +Fully an hour before Judge Maxwell arrived to open court, the benches +down toward the front were full. This vantage ground had been +preempted mainly by the old men whose hearing was growing dim. They +sat there with their old hands, as brown as blackberry roots, clasped +over their sticks and umbrellas, their peaked old chins up, their eyes +alert. Here and there among them sat an ancient dame, shawled and +kerchiefed, for the day was chill; and from them all there rose the +scent of dry tobacco-leaves, and out of their midst there sounded +the rustling of paper-bags and the cracking of peanut-shells. + +"Gosh m' granny!" said Captain Bill Taylor, deputy sheriff, as he stood +a moment after placing a pitcher of water and a glass on the bench, +ready for Judge Maxwell's hand. "They're here from Necessity to +Tribulation!" + +Of course the captain was stretching the territory represented by that +gathering somewhat, for those two historic post offices lay farther away +from Shelbyville than the average inhabitant of that country ever +journeyed in his life. But there was no denying that they had come from +surprising distances. + +There was Uncle Posen Spratt, from Little Sugar Creek, with his +steer's-horn ear trumpet; and there were Nick Proctor and his wife, +July, from the hills beyond Destruction, seventeen miles over a road +that pitched from end to end when it didn't slant from side to side, and +took a shag-barked, sharp-shinned, cross-eyed wind-splitter to travel. +There sat old Bev Munday, from Blue Cut, who hadn't been that far away +from home since Jesse James got after him, with his old brown hat on his +head; and it was two to one in the opinion of everybody that he'd keep +it there till the sheriff ordered him to lift it off. Hiram Lee, from +Sni-a-bar Township was over there in the corner where he could slant up +and spit out of the window, and there was California Colboth, as big +around the waist as a cow, right behind him. She had came over in her +dish-wheeled buggy from Green Valley, and she was staying with her +married son, who worked on the railroad and lived in that little +pink-and-blue house behind the water-tank. + +Oh, you could stand there--said Captain Taylor--and name all the old +settlers for twenty-seven mile in a ring! But the captain hadn't the +time, even if he was taken with the inclination, for the townspeople +began to come, and it was his duty to stand at the door and shut off the +stream when all the benches were full. + +That was Judge Maxwell's order; nobody was to be allowed to stand around +the walls or in the aisles and jig and shuffle and kick up a disturbance +just when the lawyers or witnesses might be saying something that the +captain would be very anxious to hear. The captain indorsed the judge's +mandate, and sustained his judgment with internal warmth. + +General Bryant and Colonel Moss Punton came early, and sat opposite each +other in the middle of the aisle, each on the end of a bench, where they +could look across and exchange opinions, yet escape being crowded by the +mongrel stock which was sure to come pouring in soon. A good many +unnoted sons of distinguished fathers arrived in pairs and troops, with +perfumery on their neckties and chewing-gum in their teeth; and their +sisters, for the greater part as lovely as they were knotty, warty, +pimply, and weak-shanked, came after them in churchlike decorum and +settled down on the benches like so many light-winged birds. But not +without a great many questioning glances and shy explorations around +them, not certain that this thing was proper and admissible, it being +such a mixed and dry-tobacco atmosphere. Seeing mothers here, +grandfathers there, uncles and aunts, cousins and neighbors everywhere, +they settled down, assured, to enjoy the day. + +It was a delightfully horrid thing to be tried for murder, they said, +even though one was obscure and nobody, a bound servant in the fields of +the man whom he had slain. Especially if one came off clear. + +Then Hammer arrived with three law-books under his arm. He was all sleek +and shining, perfumed to the last possible drop. His alpaca coat had +been replaced by a longer one of broadcloth, his black necktie surely +was as dignified and somberly learned of droop as Judge Burns', or Judge +Little's, or Attorney Pickell's, who got Perry Norris off for stealing +old man Purvis' cow. + +Mrs. Newbolt was there already, awaiting him at the railing which +divided the lawyers from the lawed, lawing, and, in some cases, +outlawed. She was so unobtrusive in her rusty black dress, which looked +as if it were made of storm-streaked umbrellas, that nobody had noticed +her. + +Now, when they saw her stand and shake hands with Hammer, and saw Hammer +obsequiously but conspicuously conduct her to a chair within the sacred +precincts of the bar, there were whisperings and straightenings of +backs, and a stirring of feet with that concrete action which belongs +peculiarly to a waiting, expectant crowd, but is impossible to segregate +or individually define. + +Judge Maxwell opened the door of his chamber, which had stood tall and +dark and solemnly closed all morning just a little way behind the bench, +and took his place. At the same moment the sheriff, doubtless timing +himself to the smooth-working order, came in from the witness-room, +opening from the court-room at the judge's right hand, with the +prisoner. + +Joe hesitated a little as the sheriff closed the door behind them, his +hand on the prisoner's shoulder, as if uncertain of what was next +required of him. The sheriff pushed him forward with commanding gesture +toward the table at which Hammer stood, and Joe proceeded to cross the +room in the fire of a thousand eyes. + +It seemed to him that the sheriff might have made the entrance less +spectacular, that he could have brought him sooner, or another way. That +was like leading him across a stage, with the audience all in place, +waiting the event. But Joe strode along ahead of the sheriff with his +head up, his long, shaggy hair smoothed into some semblance of order, +his spare garments short and outgrown upon his bony frame. His arms were +ignominiously bound in the sheriff's handcuffs, linked together by half +a foot of dangling chain. + +That stirring sigh of mingled whispers and deep-drawn breaths ran over +the room again; here and there someone half rose for a better look. The +dim-eyed old men leaned forward to see what was coming next; Uncle Posen +Spratt put up his steer's-horn trumpet as if to blow the blast of +judgment out of his ear. + +Joe sat in the chair which Hammer indicated; the sheriff released one +hand from the manacles and locked the other to the arm of the chair. +Then Captain Taylor closed the door, himself on the outside of it, and +walked down to the front steps of the court-house with slow and stately +tread. There he lifted his right hand, as if to command the attention of +the world, and pronounced in loud voice this formula: + +"Oy's, oy's, oy's! The hon'r'bl' circuit court of the _hum_teenth +judicial de-strict is now in session, pursu'nt t' 'j'urnm'nt!" + +Captain Taylor turned about as the last word went echoing against the +First National Bank, and walked slowly up the stairs. He opened the +court-room door and closed it; he placed his back against it, and folded +his arms upon his breast, his eyes fixed upon a stain on the wall. + +Judge Maxwell took up some papers from the desk, and spread one of them +before him. + +"In the matter of Case No. 79, State _vs._ Newbolt. Gentlemen, are you +ready for trial?" + +The judge spoke in low and confidential voice, meant for the attorneys +at the bar only. It scarcely carried to the back of the room, filled +with the sound-killing vapors from five hundred mouths, and many of the +old men in the front seats failed to catch it, even though they cupped +their hands behind their ears. + +Sam Lucas, prosecuting attorney, rose. + +Slight and pale, with a thin chest and a stoop forward, he was +distinguished by the sharp eyes beside his flat-bridged nose, so +flattened out, it seemed, by some old blow, that they could almost +communicate with each other across it. His light, loose hair was very +long; when he warmed up in speaking he shook it until it tumbled about +his eyes. Then it was his habit to sweep it back with the palm of his +hand in a long, swinging movement of the arm. It was a most expressive +gesture; it seemed as if by it he rowed himself back into the placid +waters of reasoning. Now, as he stood before Judge Maxwell, he swept his +palm over his forelock, although it lay snug and unruffled in its +place. + +"Your honor, the state is ready," said he, and remained standing. + +Hammer pushed his books along the table, shuffled his papers, and +rose ponderously. He thrust his right hand into the bosom of his coat +and leaned slightly against the left in an attitude of scholarly +preparedness. + +"Your honor, the defense is ready," he announced. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +"SHE COMETH NOT," HE SAID + + +Joe, his face as white as some plant that has sprung in a dungeon, bent +his head toward his mother, and placed his free hand on hers where it +lay on the arm of her chair. + +"It will soon be over with now, Mother," he encouraged, with the hope in +his heart that it would, indeed, be so. + +With an underling in his place at the door, Captain Taylor advanced to +take charge of the marshaling of the jury panel. There ensued a great +bustling and tramping as the clerk called off the names of those drawn. + +While this was proceeding, Joe cast his eyes about the room, animated by +a double hope: that Alice would be there to hear him tell his story; +that Morgan had come and was in waiting to supply the facts which honor +sealed upon his own tongue. He could see only the first few rows of +benches with the certainty of individual identification; they were +filled with strangers. Beyond them it was conglomerate, that fused and +merged thing which seemed a thousand faces, yet one; that blended and +commingled mass which we call the public. Out of the mass Joe Newbolt +could not sift the lean, shrewd face of Curtis Morgan, nor glean from it +the brown hair of Alice Price. + +The discovery that Alice was not there smote him with a feeling of +sudden hopelessness and abandonment; the reproaches which he had kindled +against himself in his solitary days in jail rose up in redoubled +torture. He blamed the rashness of an unreasoning moment in which he had +forgotten time and circumstance. Her interest was gone from him now, +where, if he had waited for vindication, he might have won her heart. + +But it was a dream, at the best, he confessed, turning away from his +hungry search of the crowd, his head drooping forward in dejection. What +did it matter for the world's final exculpation, if Alice were not there +to hear? + +His mother nodded to somebody, and touched his hand. Ollie it was, whom +she greeted. She was seated near at hand, beside a fat woman with a red +and greasy face, whose air of protection and large interest proclaimed +her a relative. Joe thought that she filled pretty well the bill that +Ollie had made out of her mother, on that day when she had scorned her +for having urged her into marriage with Isom. + +Ollie was very white in her black mourning dress, and thinner of +features than when he had seen her last. She smiled, and nodded to him, +with an air of timid questioning, as if doubtful whether he had expected +it, and uncertain how it would be received. Joe bowed his head, +respectfully. + +What a wayside flower she seemed, thought he; how common beside Alice! +Yet, she had been bright and refreshing in the dusty way where he had +found her. He wondered why she was not within the rail also, near +Hammer, if she was for him; or near the prosecutor, if she was on the +other side. + +He was not alone in this speculation. Many others wondered over that +point also. It was the public expectation that she naturally would +assist the state in the punishment of her husband's slayer; but Sam +Lucas was not paying the slightest attention to her, and it was not +known whether he even had summoned her as a witness. + +And now Captain Taylor began to create a fresh commotion by clearing the +spectators from the first row of benches to make seats for the jury +panel. Judge Maxwell was waiting the restoration of order, leaning back +in his chair. Joe scanned his face. + +Judge Maxwell was tall and large of frame, from which the study and +abstemiousness of his life had worn all superfluous flesh. His face, +cleanly shaved, was expressive of the scholarly attainments which made +his decisions a national standard. The judge's eyes were bushed over +with great, gray brows, the one forbidding cast in his countenance; they +looked out upon those who came for judgment before him through a pair of +spring-clamp spectacles which seemed to ride precariously upon his +large, bony nose. The glasses were tied to a slender black braid, which +he wore looped about his neck. + +His hair was long, iron-gray, and thick; he wore it brushed straight +back from his brow, without a parting or a break. It lay in place so +smoothly and persistently through all the labor of his long days, that +strangers were sometimes misled into the belief that it was not his own. +This peculiar fashion of dressing his hair, taken with the length and +leanness of his jaw, gave the judge a cast of aquiline severeness which +his gray eyes belied when they beamed over the tops of his glasses at +floundering young counsel or timid witness. + +Yet they could shoot darts of fire, as many a rash lawyer who had fallen +under their censure could bear witness. At such moments the judge had a +peculiar habit of drawing up his long back and seemingly to distend +himself with all the dignity which his cumulative years and honors had +endured, and of bowing his neck to make the focus of his eyes more +direct as he peered above his rimless glasses. He did not find it +necessary to reprimand an attorney often, never more than once, but +these occasions never were forgotten. In his twenty-five years' service +on the bench, he never had been reversed. + +Joe felt a revival of hope again under the influence of these +preparations for the trial. Perhaps Alice was there, somewhere among the +people back in the room, he thought. And the colonel, also, and maybe +Morgan. Who could tell? There was no use in abandoning hope when he was +just where he could see a little daylight. + +Joe sat up again, and lifted his head with new confidence. His mother +sat beside him, watching everything with a sharpness which seemed +especially bent on seeing that Joe was given all his rights, and that +nothing was omitted nor slighted that might count in his favor. + +She watched Hammer, and Captain Taylor; she measured Sam Lucas, the +prosecutor, and she weighed the judge. When Hammer did something that +pleased her, she nodded; when the prosecutor interposed, or seemed to be +blocking the progress of the case, she shook her head in severe +censure. + +And now Joe came in for his first taste of the musty and ancient savor +of the law. He had hoped that morning to walk away free at evening, or +at least to have met the worst that was to come, chancing it that Morgan +failed to appear and give him a hand. But he saw the hours waste away +with the most exasperating fiddling, fussing and scratching over +unprofitable straw. + +What Hammer desired in a juryman, the prosecuting attorney was hotly +against, and what pleased the state's attorney seemed to give Hammer a +spasmodic chill. Instead of selecting twelve intelligent men, the most +intelligent of the sixty empaneled, both Hammer and the prosecutor +seemed determined to choose the most dense. + +That day's sweating labor resulted in the selection of four jurymen. +Hammer seemed cheered. He said he had expected to exhaust the panel and +get no more than two, at the best. Now it seemed as if they might secure +the full complement without drawing another panel, and that would save +them at least four days. That must have been an exceedingly lucky haul +of empty heads, indeed. + +Joe could not see any reason for elation. The prospect of freedom--or +the worst--had withdrawn so far that there was not even a pin-point of +daylight in the gloom. Alice had not shown her face. If she had come at +all, she had withheld herself from his hungry eyes. His heart was as +bleak that night as the mind of the densest juryman agreed upon between +Hammer and the attorney for the state. + +Next day, to the surprise of everybody, the jury was completed. And then +there followed, on the succeeding morning, a recital by the prosecuting +attorney of what he proposed and expected to prove in substantiation of +the charge that Joe Newbolt had shot and killed Isom Chase; and Hammer's +no shorter statement of what he was prepared to show to the contrary. + +Owing to the unprecedented interest, and the large number of people who +had driven in from the country, Judge Maxwell unbent from his hard +conditions on that day. He instructed Captain Taylor to admit spectators +to standing-room along the walls, but to keep the aisles between the +benches clear. + +This concession provided for at least a hundred more onlookers and +listeners, who stood forgetful of any ache in their shanks throughout +the long and dragging proceedings well satisfied, believing that the +coming sensations would repay them for any pangs of inconvenience they +might suffer. + +It was on the afternoon of the third day of the trial that Sol Greening, +first witness for the state, was called. + +Sol retailed again, in his gossipy way, and with immense enjoyment of +his importance, the story of the tragedy as he had related it at the +inquest. Sam Lucas gave him all the rope he wanted, even led him into +greater excursions than Sol had planned. Round-about excursions, to be +sure, and inconsequential in effect, but they all led back to the tragic +picture of Joe Newbolt standing beside the dead body of Isom Chase, his +hat in his hand, as if he had been interrupted on the point of escape. + +Sol seemed a wonderfully acute man for the recollection of details, but +there was one thing that had escaped his memory. He said he did not +remember whether, when he knocked on the kitchen door, anybody told him +to come in or not. He was of the opinion, to the best of his knowledge +and belief--the words being supplied by the prosecutor--that he just +knocked, and stood there blowing a second or two, like a horse that had +been put to a hard run, and then went in without being bidden. Sol +believed that was the way of it; he had no recollection of anybody +telling him to come in. + +When it came Hammer's turn to question the witness, he rose with an air +of patronizing assurance. He called Sol by his first name, in easy +familiarity, although he never had spoken to him before that day. He +proceeded as if he intended to establish himself in the man's confidence +by gentle handling, and in that manner cause him to confound, refute and +entangle himself by admissions made in gratitude. + +But Sol was a suspicious customer. He hesitated and he hummed, backed +and sidled, and didn't know anything more than he had related. The bag +of money which had been found with Isom's body had been introduced by +the state for identification by Sol. Hammer took up the matter with a +sudden turn toward sharpness and belligerency. + +"You say that this is the same sack of money that was there on the floor +with Isom Chase's body when you entered the room?" he asked. + +"That's it," nodded Sol. + +"Tell this jury how you know it's the same one!" ordered Hammer, in +stern voice. + +"Well, I seen it," said Sol. + +"Oh, yes, you saw it. Well, did you go over to it and make a mark on it +so you'd know it again?" + +"No, I never done that," admitted Sol. + +"Don't you know the banks are full of little sacks of money like that?" +Hammer wanted to know. + +"I reckon maybe they air," Sol replied. + +"And this one might be any one of a thousand like it, mightn't it, +Sol?" + +"Well, I don't reckon it could. That's the one Isom had." + +"Did you step over where the dead body was at and heft it?" + +"'Course I never," said Sol. + +"Did you open it and count the money in it, or tie a string or something +onto it so you'd know it when you saw it again?" + +"No, I never," said Sol sulkily. + +"Then how do you know this is it?" + +"I tell you I seen it," persisted Sol. + +"Oh, you seen it!" repeated Hammer, sweeping the jury a cunning look as +if to apprise them that he had found out just what he wanted to know, +and that upon that simple admission he was about to turn the villainy of +Sol Greening inside out for them to see with their own intelligent +eyes. + +"Yes, I said I seen it," maintained Sol, bristling up a little. + +"Yes, I heard you say it, and now I want you to tell this jury how you +_know_!" + +Hammer threw the last word into Sol's face with a slam that made him +jump. Sol turned red under the whiskers, around the whiskers, and all +over the uncovered part of him. He shifted in his chair; he swallowed. + +"Well, I don't just know," said he. + +"No, you don't--just--know!" sneered Hammer, glowing in oily triumph. He +looked at the jury confidentially, as on the footing of a shrewd man +with his equally shrewd audience. + +Then he took up the old rifle, and Isom's bloody coat and shirt, which +were also there as exhibits, and dressed Sol down on all of them, +working hard to create the impression in the minds of the jurors that +Sol Greening was a born liar, and not to be depended on in the most +trivial particular. + +Hammer worked himself up into a sweat and emitted a great deal of +perfume of barberish--and barbarous--character, and glanced around the +court-room with triumph in his eyes and satisfaction at the corners of +his mouth. + +He came now to the uncertainty of Sol's memory on the matter of being +bidden to enter the kitchen when he knocked. Sol had now passed from +doubt to certainty. Come to think it over, said he, nobody had said a +word when he knocked at that door. He remembered now that it was as +still inside the house as if everybody was away. + +Mrs. Greening was standing against the wall, having that moment returned +to the room from ministering to her daughter's baby. She held the infant +in her arms, waiting Sol's descent from the witness-chair so she might +settle down in her place without disturbing the proceedings. When she +heard her husband make this positive declaration, her mouth fell open +and her eyes widened in surprise. + +"Why Sol," she spoke up reprovingly, "you told me Joe----" + +It had taken the prosecuting attorney that long to glance around and +spring to his feet. There his voice, in a loud appeal to the court for +the protection of his sacred rights, drowned that of mild Mrs. Greening. +The judge rapped, the sheriff rapped; Captain Taylor, from his post at +the door, echoed the authoritative sound. + +Hammer abruptly ceased his questioning of Sol, after the judge had +spoken a few crisp words of admonishment, not directed in particular at +Mrs. Greening, but more to the public at large, regarding the decorum of +the court. Sam Lucas thereupon took Sol in hand again, and drew him on +to replace his former doubtful statement by his later conclusion. As Sol +left the witness-chair Hammer smiled. He handed Mrs. Greening's name to +the clerk, and requested a subpoena for her as a witness for the +defense. + +Sol's son Dan was the next witness, and Hammer put him through a similar +course of sprouts. Judge Maxwell allowed Hammer to disport uncurbed +until it became evident that, if given his way, the barber-lawyer would +drag the trial out until Joe was well along in middle life. He then +admonished Hammer that there were bounds fixed for human existence, and +that the case must get on. + +Hammer was a bit uppish and resentful. He stood on his rights; he +invoked the sacred constitution; he referred to the revised statutes; he +put his hand into his coat and spread his legs to make a memorable +protest. + +Judge Maxwell took him in hand very kindly and led safely past the point +of explosion with a smile of indulgence. With that done, the state came +to Constable Bill Frost and his branching mustaches, which he had +trimmed up and soaped back quite handsomely. + +To his own credit and the surprise of the lawyers who were watching the +case, Hammer made a great deal of the point of Joe having gone to Frost, +voluntarily and alone, to summon him to the scene of the tragedy. Frost +admitted that he had believed Joe's story until Sol Greening had pointed +out to him the suspicious circumstances. + +"So you have to have somebody else to do your thinkin' for you, do you?" +said Hammer. "Well, you're a fine officer of the law and a credit to +this state!" + +"I object!" said the prosecuting attorney, standing up in his place, +very red around the eyes. + +The judge smiled, and the court-room tittered. The sheriff looked back +over his shoulder and rapped the table for order. + +"Comment is unnecessary, Mr. Hammer," said the judge. "Proceed with the +case." + +And so that weary day passed in trivial questioning on both sides, +trivial bickerings, and waste of time, to the great edifications of +everybody but Joe and his mother, and probably the judge. Ten of the +state's forty witnesses were disposed of, and Hammer was as moist as a +jug of cold water in a shock of wheat. + +When the sheriff started to take Joe back to jail, the lad stood for a +moment searching the breaking-up and moving assembly with longing eyes. +All day he had sat with his back to the people, not having the heart to +look around with that shameful handcuff and chain binding his arm to the +chair. If Alice had been there, or Colonel Price, neither had come +forward to wish him well. + +There were Ollie and her mother, standing as they had risen from their +bench, waiting for the crowd ahead of them to set in motion toward the +door, and here and there a face from his own neighborhood. But Alice was +not among them. She had withdrawn her friendship from him in his darkest +hour. + +Neither had Morgan appeared to put his shoulder under the hard-pressing +load and relieve him of its weight. Day by day it was growing heavier; +but a little while remained until it must crush out his hope forever. +Certainly, there was a way out without Morgan; there was a way open to +him leading back into the freedom of the world, where he might walk +again with the sunlight on his face. A word would make it clear. + +But the sun would never strike again into his heart if he should go back +to it under that coward's reprieve, and Alice--Alice would scorn his +memory. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE BLOW OF A FRIEND + + +Progress was swifter the next day. The prosecuting attorney, apparently +believing that he had made his case, dismissed many of his remaining +witnesses who had nothing to testify to in fact. When he announced that +the state rested, there was a murmur and rustling in the room, and +audibly expressed wonderment over what the public thought to be a grave +blunder on Sam Lucas's part. + +The state had not called the widow of Isom Chase to the stand to give +testimony against the man accused of her husband's murder. The public +could not make it out. What did it mean? Did the prosecutor hold her +more of an enemy than a friend to his efforts to convict the man whose +hand had made her a widow? Whispers went around, grave faces were drawn, +wise heads wagged. Public charity for Ollie began to falter. + +"Him and that woman," men said, nodding toward Joe, sitting pale and +inscrutable beside his blustering lawyer. + +The feeling of impending sensation became more acute when it circulated +through the room, starting from Captain Taylor at the inner door, that +Ollie had been summoned as a witness for the defense; Captain Taylor had +served the subpoena himself. + +"Well, in that case, Sam Lucas knew what he was doing," people allowed. +"Just wait!" It was as good as a spirituous stimulant to their lagging +interest. "Just you wait till Sam Lucas gets hold of her," they said. + +Hammer began the defense by calling his character witnesses and +establishing Joe's past reputation for "truth and veracity and general +uprightness." + +There was no question in the character which Joe's neighbors gave him. +They spoke warmly of his past record among them, of his fidelity to his +word and obligation, and of the family record, which Hammer went into +with free and unhampered hand. + +The prosecutor passed these witnesses with serene confidence. He +probably believed that his case was already made, people said, or else +he was reserving his fire for Isom's widow, who, it seemed to everybody, +had turned against nature and her own interests in allying herself with +the accused. + +The morning was consumed in the examination of these character +witnesses, Hammer finishing with the last of them just before the midday +adjournment. The sheriff was preparing to remove the prisoner. Joe's +hand had been released from the arm of the chair, and the officer had +fastened the iron around his wrist. The proceeding always struck Joe +with an overwhelming wave of degradation and now he stood with bowed +head and averted face. + +"Come on," said the sheriff, goggling down at him with froggish eyes +from his vantage on the dais where the witness-chair stood, his long +neck on a slant like a giraffe's. The sheriff took great pleasure in the +proceeding of attaching the irons. It was his one central moment in the +eyes of the throng. + +Joe looked up to march ahead of the sheriff out of the room, and his +eyes met the eyes of Alice. She was not far away, and the cheer of their +quick message was like a spoken word. She was wearing the same gray +dress that she had worn on that day of days, with the one bright feather +in her bonnet, and she smiled, nodding to him. And then the swirl of +bobbing heads and moving bodies came between them and she was lost. + +He looked for her again as the sheriff pushed him along toward the door, +but the room was in such confusion that he could not single her out. The +judge had gone out through his tall, dark door, and the court-room was +no longer an awesome place to those who had gathered for the trial. Men +put their hats on their heads and lit their pipes, and bit into their +twists and plugs of tobacco and emptied their mouths of the juices as +they went slowly toward the door. + +Mrs. Greening was the first witness called by Hammer after the noon +recess. Hammer quickly discovered his purpose in calling her as being +nothing less than that of proving by her own mouth that her husband, +Sol, was a gross and irresponsible liar. + +Hammer went over the whole story of the tragedy--Mrs. Greening having +previously testified to all these facts as a witness for the state--from +the moment that Sol had called her out of bed and taken her to the Chase +home to support the young widow in her hour of distraction and fear. By +slow and lumbering ways he led her, like a blind horse floundering along +a heavy road, through the front door, up the stairs into Ollie's room, +and then, in his own time and fashion, he arrived at what he wanted to +ask. + +"Now I want you to tell this jury, Mrs. Greening, if at any time, during +that night or thereafter, you discussed or talked of or chatted about +the killing of Isom Chase with your husband?" asked Hammer. + +"Oh laws, yes," said Mrs. Greening. + +The prosecuting attorney was rising slowly to his feet. He seemed +concentrated on something; a frown knotted his brow, and he stood with +his open hand poised as if to reach out quickly and check the flight of +something which he expected to wing in and assail the jury. + +Said Hammer, after wiping his glistening forehead with a yellow silk +handkerchief: + +"Yes. And now, Mrs. Greening, I will ask you if at any time your husband +ever told you what was said, if anything, by any party inside of that +house when he run up to the kitchen door that night and knocked?" + +"I object!" said the prosecutor sharply, flinging out his ready hand. + +"Don't answer that question!" warned the judge. + +Mrs. Greening had it on her lips; anybody who could read print on a +signboard could have told what they were shaped to say. She held them +there in their preliminary position of enunciation, pursed and wrinkled, +like the tied end of a sausage-link. + +"I will frame the question in another manner," said Hammer, again +feeling the need of his large handkerchief. + +"There is no form that would be admissible, your honor," protested the +prosecutor. "It is merely hearsay that the counsel for the defense is +attempting to bring out and get before the jury. I object!" + +"Your course of questioning, Mr. Hammer, is highly improper, and in +flagrant violation to the established rules of evidence," said the +judge. "You must confine yourself to proof by this witness of what she, +of her own knowledge and experience, is cognizant of. Nothing else is +permissible." + +"But, your honor, I intend to show by this witness that when Sol +Greening knocked on that door----" + +"I object! She wasn't present; she has testified that she was at home at +that time, and in bed." + +This from the prosecutor, in great heat. + +"Your honor, I intend to prove--" began Hammer. + +"This line of questioning is not permissible, as I told you before," +said the judge in stern reproof. + +But Hammer was obdurate. He was for arguing it, and the judge ordered +the sheriff to conduct the jury from the room. Mrs. Greening, red and +uncomfortable, and all at sea over it, continued sitting in the +witness-chair while Hammer laid it off according to his view of it, and +the prosecutor came back and tore his contentions to pieces. + +The judge, for no other purpose, evidently, than to prove to the +defendant and public alike that he was unbiased and fair--knowing +beforehand what his ruling must be--indulged Hammer until he expended +his argument. Then he laid the matter down in few words. + +Mrs. Greening had not been present when her husband knocked on the door +of Isom Chase's kitchen that night; she did not know, therefore, of her +own experience what was spoken. No matter what her husband told her he +said, or anybody else said, she could not repeat the words there under +oath. It would be hearsay evidence, and such evidence was not admissible +in any court of law. No matter how important such testimony might appear +to one seeking the truth, the rules of evidence in civilized courts +barred it. Mrs. Greening's lips must remain sealed on what Sol said Joe +said, or anybody said to someone else. + +So the jury was called back, and Mrs. Greening was excused, and Hammer +wiped off the sweat and pushed back his cuffs. And the people who had +come in from their farmsteads to hear this trial by jury--all innocent +of the traditions and precedents of practice of the law--marveled how it +could be. Why, nine people out of nine, all over the township where Sol +Greening lived, would take his wife's word for anything where she and +Sol had different versions of a story. + +It looked to them like Sol had told the truth in the first place to his +wife, and lied on the witness-stand. And here she was, all ready to show +the windy old rascal up, and they wouldn't let her. Well, it beat all +two o'clock! + +Of course, being simple people who had never been at a university in +their lives, they did not know that Form and Precedent are the two +pillars of Strength and Beauty, the Jachin and Boaz at the entrance of +the temple of the law. Or that the proper genuflections before them are +of more importance than the mere bringing out of a bit of truth which +might save an accused man's life. + +And so it stood before the jury that Sol Greening had knocked on the +door of Isom Chase's kitchen that night and had not been bidden to +enter, when everybody in the room, save the jury of twelve intelligent +men--who had been taken out to keep their innocence untainted and their +judgment unbiased by a gleam of the truth--knew that he had sat up there +and lied. + +Hammer cooled himself off after a few minutes of mopping, and called +Ollie Chase to the witness-chair. Ollie seemed nervous and full of dread +as she stood for a moment stowing her cloak and handbag in her mother's +lap. She turned back for her handkerchief when she had almost reached +the little gate in the railing through which she must pass to the +witness-chair. Hammer held it open for her and gave her the comfort of +his hand under her elbow as she went forward to take her place. + +A stir and a whispering, like a quick wind in a cornfield, moved over +the room when Ollie's name was called. Then silence ensued. It was more +than a mere listening silence; it was impertinent. Everybody looked for +a scandal, and most of them hoped that they should not depart that day +with their long-growing hunger unsatisfied. + +Ollie took the witness-chair with an air of extreme nervousness. As she +settled down in her cloud of black skirt, black veil, and shadow of +black sailor hat, she cast about the room a look of timid appeal. She +seemed to be sounding the depths of the listening crowd's sympathy, and +to find it shallow and in shoals. + +Hammer was kind, with an unctuous, patronizing gentleness. He seemed to +approach her with the feeling that she might say a great deal that would +be damaging to the defendant if she had a mind to do it, but with gentle +adroitness she could be managed to his advantage. Led by a question +here, a helping reminder there, Ollie went over her story, in all +particulars the same as she had related at the inquest. + +Hammer brought out, with many confidential glances at the jury, the +distance between Ollie's room and the kitchen; the fact that she had her +door closed, that she had gone to bed heavy with weariness, and was +asleep long before midnight; that she had been startled by a sound, a +strange and mysterious sound for that quiet house, and had sat up in her +bed listening. Sol Greening had called her next, in a little while, even +before she could master her fright and confusion and muster courage to +run down the hall and call Joe. + +Hammer did well with the witness; that was the general opinion, drawing +from her a great deal about Joe's habit of life in Isom's house, a great +deal about Isom's temper, hard ways, and readiness to give a blow. + +She seemed reluctant to discuss Isom's faults, anxious, rather, to ease +them over after the manner of one whose judgment has grown less severe +with the lapse of time. + +Had he ever laid hands on her in temper? Hammer wanted to know. + +"Yes." Her reply was a little more than a whisper, with head bent, with +tears in her sad eyes. Under Hammer's pressure she told about the +purchase of the ribbon, of Isom's iron hand upon her throat. + +The women all over the room made little sounds of pitying deprecation of +old Isom's penury, and when Hammer drew from her, with evident +reluctance on her part to yield it up, the story of her hard-driven, +starved, and stingy life under Isom's roof, they put their handkerchiefs +to their eyes. + +All the time Ollie was following Hammer's kind leading, the prosecuting +attorney was sitting with his hands clasped behind his head, balancing +his weight on the hinder legs of his chair, his foot thrown over his +knee. Apparently he was bored, even worried, by Hammer's pounding +attempts to make Isom out a man who deserved something slower and less +merciful than a bullet, years before he came to his violent end. + +Through it all Joe sat looking at Ollie, great pity for her forlorn +condition and broken spirit in his honest eyes. She did not meet his +glance, not for one wavering second. When she went to the stand she +passed him with bent head; in the chair she looked in every direction +but his, mainly at her hands, clasped in her lap. + +At last Hammer seemed skirmishing in his mind in search of some stray +question which might have escaped him, which he appeared unable to find. +He turned his papers, he made a show of considering something, while the +witness sat with her head bowed, her half-closed eyelids purple from +much weeping, worrying, and watching for the coming of one who had taken +the key to her poor, simple heart and gone his careless way. + +"That's all, Missis Chase," said Hammer. + +Ollie leaned over, picked up one of her gloves that had fallen to the +floor, and started to leave the chair. Her relief was evident in her +face. The prosecutor, suddenly alive, was on his feet. He stretched out +his arm, staying her with a commanding gesture. + +"Wait a minute, Mrs. Chase," said he. + +A stir of expectation rustled through the room again as Ollie resumed +her seat. People moistened their lips, suddenly grown hot and dry. + +"Now, just watch Sam Lucas!" they said. + +"Now, Mrs. Chase," began the prosecutor, assuming the polemical attitude +common to small lawyers when cross-examining a witness; "I'll ask you to +tell this jury whether you were alone in your house with Joe Newbolt on +the night of October twelfth, when Isom Chase, your husband, was +killed?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"This man Morgan, the book-agent, who had been boarding with you, had +paid his bill and gone away?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And there was absolutely nobody in the house that night but yourself +and Joe Newbolt?" + +"Nobody else." + +"And you have testified, here on this witness-stand, before this court +and this jury"--that being another small lawyer's trick to impress the +witness with a sense of his own unworthiness--"that you went to bed +early that night. Now, where was Joe Newbolt?" + +"I guess he was in bed," answered Ollie, her lips white; "I didn't go to +see." + +"No, you didn't go to see," repeated the prosecutor with significant +stress. "Very well. Where did your husband keep his money in the +house?" + +"I don't know; I never saw any of it," Ollie answered. + +The reply drew a little jiggling laugh from the crowd. It rose and died +even while Captain Taylor's knuckles were poised over the panel of the +door, and his loud rap fell too late for all, save one deep-chested +farmer in a far corner, who must have been a neighbor of old Isom. This +man's raucous mirth seemed a roar above the quiet of the packed room. +The prosecutor looked in his direction with a frown. The sheriff stood +up and peered over that way threateningly. + +"Preserve order, Mr. Sheriff," said the judge severely. + +The sheriff pounded the table with his hairy fist. "Now, I tell you I +don't want to hear no more of this!" said he. + +The prosecutor was shaken out of his pose a bit by the court-room laugh. +There is nothing equal to a laugh for that, to one who is laboring to +impress his importance upon the world. It took him some time to get back +to his former degree of heat, skirmishing around with incidental +questioning. He looked over his notes, pausing. Then he faced Ollie +again quickly, leveling his finger like a pointer of direct accusation. + +"Did Joe Newbolt ever make love to you?" he asked. + +Joe's face flushed with resentful fire; but Ollie's white calm, forced +and strained that it was, remained unchanged. + +"No, sir; he never did." + +"Did he ever kiss you?" + +"No, I tell you, he didn't!" Ollie answered, with a little show of +spirit. + +Hammer rose with loud and voluble objections, which had, for the first +time during the proceedings, Joe's hearty indorsement. But the judge +waved him down, and the prosecutor pressed his new line of inquisition. + +"You and Joe Newbolt were thrown together a good deal, weren't you, Mrs. +Chase--you were left there alone in the house while your husband was +away in the field, and other places, frequently?" + +"No, not very much," said Ollie, shaking her head. + +"But you had various opportunities for talking together alone, hadn't +you?" + +"I never had a chance for anything but work," said Ollie wearily. + +Unawed by the sheriff's warning, the assembly laughed again. The sound +ran over the room like a scudding cloud across a meadow, and when the +sheriff stood again to set his censorious eye upon someone responsible, +the last ripple was on the farther rows. Nobody can catch a laugh in a +crowd; it is as evasive as a pickpocket. Nobody can turn with watchful +eye upon it and tell in what face the ribald gleam first breaks. It is +as impossible as the identification of the first stalk shaken when a +breeze assails a field of grain. + +The sheriff, not being deeper than another man, saw the fatuity of his +labor. He turned to the court with a clownish gesture of the hands, +expressive of his utter inability to stop this thing. + +"Proceed with the case," said the judge, understanding the situation +better than the sheriff knew. + +The prosecuting attorney labored away with Ollie, full of the feeling +that something masked lay behind her pale reticence, some guilty +conspiracy between her and the bound boy, which would show the lacking +motive for the crime. He asked her again about Morgan, how long she had +known him, where he came from, and where he went--a question to which +Ollie would have been glad enough to have had the answer herself. + +He hung on to the subject of Morgan so persistently that Joe began to +feel his throat drying out with a closing sensation which he could not +swallow. He trembled for Ollie, fearing that she would be forced into +telling it all. That was not a woman's story, thought he, with a heart +full of resentment for the prosecutor. Let him wait till Morgan came, +and then---- + +But what grounds had he now for believing Morgan might come? Unless he +came within the next hour, his coming might be too late. + +"You were in bed and asleep when the shot that killed your husband was +fired, you have told the jury, Mrs. Chase?" questioned the prosecutor, +dropping Morgan at last. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Then how did it come that when Mrs. Greening and her daughter-in-law +arrived a few minutes later you were all dressed up in a white dress?" + +"I just slipped it on," said she. + +"You just slipped it on," repeated the prosecutor, turning his eyes to +the jury, and not even facing Mrs. Chase as he spoke, but reading into +her words discredit, suspicion, and a guilty knowledge. + +"It was the only one I had besides two old wrappers. It was the one I +was married in, and the only one I could put on to look decent in before +people," said she. + +A crowd is the most volatile thing in the world. It can laugh and sigh +and groan and weep, as well as shout and storm, with the ease of an +infant, and then immediately regain its immobility and fixed attention. +With Ollie's simple statement a sound rose from it which was a +denunciation and a curse upon the ashes of old Isom Chase. It was as if +a sympathetic old lady had shaken her head and groaned: + +"Oh, shame on you--shame!" + +Hammer gave the jury a wide-sweeping look of satisfaction, and made a +note on the tumbled pile of paper which lay in front of him. + +The prosecutor was a man with congressional aspirations, and he did not +care to prejudice his popularity by going too far in baiting a woman, +especially one who had public sympathy in the measure that it was +plainly extended to Ollie. He eased up, descending from his heights of +severity, and began to address her respectfully in a manner that was +little short of apology for what his stern duty compelled him to do. + +"Now I will ask you, Mrs. Chase, whether your husband and this +defendant, Joe Newbolt, ever had words in your hearing?" + +"Once," Ollie replied. + +"Do you recall the day?" + +"It was the morning after Joe came to our house to work," said she. + +"Do you remember what the trouble was about and what said?" + +"Well, they said a good deal," Ollie answered. "They fussed because Joe +didn't get up when Isom called him." + +Joe felt his heart contract. It seemed to him that Ollie need not have +gone into that; it looked as if she was bent not alone on protecting +herself, but on fastening the crime on him. It gave him a feeling of +uneasiness. Sweat came out on his forehead; his palms grew moist. He had +looked for Ollie to stand by him at least, and now she seemed running +away, eager to tell something that would sound to his discredit. + +"You may tell the jury what happened that morning, Mrs. Chase." + +Hammer's objection fell on barren ground, and Ollie told the story under +the directions of the judge. + +"You say there was a sound of scuffling after Isom called him?" asked +the prosecutor. + +"Yes, it sounded like Isom shook him and Joe jumped out of bed." + +"And what did Joe Newbolt say?" + +"He said, 'Put that down! I warned you never to lift your hand against +me. If you hit me, I'll kill you in your tracks!'" + +"That's what you heard Joe Newbolt say to your husband up there in the +loft over your head?" + +The prosecutor was eager. He leaned forward, both hands on the table, +and looked at her almost hungrily. The jurymen shuffled their feet and +sat up in their chairs with renewed interest. A hush fell over the room. +Here was the motive at the prosecutor's hand. + +"That's what he said," Ollie affirmed, her gaze bent downward. + +She told how Isom had come down after that, followed by Joe. And the +prosecutor asked her to repeat what she had heard Joe say once more for +the benefit of the jury. He spoke with the air of a man who already has +the game in the bag. + +When the prosecutor was through with his profitable cross-examination, +Hammer tried to lessen the effect of Ollie's damaging disclosure, but +failed. He was a depressed and crestfallen man when he gave it up. + +Ollie stepped down from the place of inquisition with the color of life +coming again into her drained lips and cheeks, the breath freer in her +throat. Her secret had not been torn from her fearful heart; she had +deepened the cloud that hung over Joe Newbolt's head. "Let him blab +now," said she in her inner satisfaction. A man might say anything +against a woman to save his neck; she was wise enough and deep enough, +for all her shallowness, to know that people were quick to understand a +thing like that. + +In passing back to her place beside her mother she had not looked at +Joe. So she did not see the perplexity, anxiety, even reproach, which +had grown in Joe's eyes when she testified against him. + +"She had no need to do that," thought Joe, sitting there in the glow of +the prosecutor's triumphant face. He had trusted Ollie to remain his +friend, and, although she had told nothing but the truth concerning his +rash threat against Isom, it seemed to him that she had done so with a +studied intent of working him harm. + +His resentment rose against Ollie, urging him to betray her guilty +relations with Morgan and strip her of the protecting mantle which he +had wrapped about her at the first. He wondered whether Morgan had not +come and entered into a conspiracy with her to shield themselves. In +such case what would his unfolding of the whole truth amount to, +discredited as he already was in the minds of the jurors by that foolish +threat which he had uttered against Isom in the thin dawn of that +distant day? + +Perhaps Alice had gone away, also, after hearing Ollie's testimony, in +the belief that he was altogether unworthy, and already branded with the +responsibility for that old man's death. He longed to look behind him +and search the throng for her, but he dared not. + +Joe bowed his head, as one overwhelmed by a sense of guilt and shame, +yet never doubting that he had acted for the best when he assumed the +risk on that sad night to shield his master's wife. It was a thing that +a man must do, that a man would do again. + +He did not know that Alice Price, doubting not him, but the woman who +had just left the witness-stand and resumed her place among the people, +was that moment searching out the shallow soul of Ollie Chase with her +accusing eyes. She sat only a little way from Ollie, in the same row of +benches, beside the colonel. She turned a little in her place so she +could see the young widow's face when she came down from the stand with +that new light in her eyes. Now she whispered to her father, and looked +again, bending forward a little in a way that seemed impertinent, +considering that it was Alice Price. + +Ollie was disconcerted by this attention, which drew other curious eyes +upon her. She moved uneasily, making a bustle of arranging herself and +her belongings in the seat, her heart troubled with the shadow of some +vague fear. + +Why did Alice Price look at her so accusingly? Why did she turn to her +father and nod and whisper that way? What did she know? What could she +know? What was Joe Newbolt and his obscure life to Colonel Price's fine +daughter, sitting there dressed better than any other woman in the room? +Or what was Isom Chase, his life, his death, or his widow, to her? + +Yet she had some interest beyond a passing curiosity, for Ollie could +feel the concentration of these sober brown eyes upon her, even when she +turned to avoid them. She recalled the interest that Colonel Price and +his daughter had taken in Joe. People had talked of it at first. They +couldn't understand it any more than she could. The colonel and his +daughter had visited Joe in jail, and carried books to him, and treated +him as one upon their own level. + +What had Joe told them? Had the coward betrayed her? + +Ollie was assailed again by all her old, dread fears. What if they +should get up and denounce her? With all of Colonel Price's political +and social influence, would not the public, and the judge and jury, +believe Joe's story if he should say it was true? She believed now that +it was all arranged for Joe to denounce her, and that timid invasion of +color was stemmed in her cheeks again. + +It was a lowering day, with a threat of unseasonable darkness in the +waning afternoon. The judge looked at his watch; Captain Taylor stirred +himself and pushed the shutters back from the two windows farthest from +the bench, and let in more light. + +People did not know just what was coming next, but the atmosphere of the +room was charged with a foreboding of something big. No man would risk +missing it by leaving, although rain was threatening, and long drives +over dark roads lay ahead of many of the anxious listeners. + +Hammer was in consultation with Joe and his mother. He seemed to be +protesting and arguing, with a mighty spreading of the hands and shaking +of the head. The judge was writing busily, making notes on his charge to +the jury, it was supposed. + +The prosecuting attorney took advantage of the momentary lull to get up +and stretch his legs, which he did literally, one after the other, +shaking his shanks to send down his crumpled pantaloons. He went to the +window with lounging stride, hands in pockets, and pushed the sash a +foot higher. There he stood, looking out into the mists which hung gray +in the maple trees. + +The jurymen, tired and unshaved, and over the momentary thrill of +Ollie's disclosure, lolled and sprawled in the box. It seemed that they +now accepted the thing as settled, and the prospect of further waiting +was boresome. The people set up a little whisper of talk, a clearing of +throats, a blowing of noses, a shifting of feet, a general preparation +and readjustment for settling down again to absorb all that might fall. + +The country folk seated in the vicinity of Alice Price, among whom her +fame had traveled far, whom many of their sons had loved, and languished +for, and gone off to run streetcars on her account, turned their freed +attention upon her, nudging, gazing, gossiping. + +"Purty as a picture, ain't she?" + +"Oh, I don't know. You set her 'longside of Bessie Craver over at Pink +Hill"--and so on. + +The judge looked up from his paper suddenly, as if the growing sound +within the room had startled him out of his thought. His face wore a +fleeting expression of surprise. He looked at the prosecutor, at the +little group in conference at the end of the table below him, as if he +did not understand. Then his judicial poise returned. He tapped with his +pen on the inkstand. + +"Gentlemen, proceed with the case," said he. + +The prosecuting attorney turned from the window with alacrity, and +Hammer, sweating and shaking his head in one last gesture of protest to +his client--who leaned back and folded his arms, with set and stubborn +face--rose ponderously. He wiped his forehead with his great, broad +handkerchief, and squared himself as if about to try a high hurdle or +plunge away in a race. + +"Joseph Newbolt, take the witness-chair," said he. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A NAME AND A MESSAGE + + +When Hammer called his name, Joe felt a revival of his old desire to go +to the witness-chair and tell Judge Maxwell all about it in his own way, +untenable and dangerous as his position had appeared to him in his hours +of depression. Now the sheriff released his arm, and he went forward +eagerly. He held up his hand solemnly while the clerk administered the +oath, then took his place in the witness-chair. Ollie's face was the +first one that his eyes found in the crowd. + +It seemed as if a strong light had been focused upon it, leaving the +rest of the house in gloom. The shrinking appeal which lay in her eyes +moved him to pity. He strove to make her understand that the cunning of +the sharpest lawyer could set no trap which would surprise her secret +from him, nor death itself display terrors to frighten it out of his +heart. + +It seemed that a sunbeam broke in the room then, but perhaps it was only +the clearing away of doubt and vacillation from his mind, with the +respectable feeling that he had regained all the nobility which was +slipping from him, and had come back to a firm understanding with +himself. + +And there was Alice, a little nearer to the bar than he had expected to +see her. Her face seemed strained and anxious, but he could not tell +whether her sympathy was dearer, her feeling softer for him in that hour +than it would have been for any other man. Colonel Price had yielded his +seat to a woman, and now he stood at the back of the room in front of +the inner door as a privileged person, beside Captain Taylor. + +Mrs. Newbolt sat straight-backed and expectant, her hand on the back of +Joe's empty chair, while the eager people strained forward to possess +themselves of the sensation which they felt must soon be loosed among +them. + +Joe's hair had grown long during his confinement. He had smoothed it +back from his forehead and tucked it behind his ears. The length of it, +the profusion, sharpened the thinness of his face; the depth of its +blackness drew out his pallor until he seemed all bloodless and cold. + +Three inches of great, bony arm showed below his coat sleeves; that +spare garment buttoned across his chest, strained at its seams. Joe wore +the boots which he had on when they arrested him, scarred and work-worn +by the stubble and thorns of Isom Chase's fields and pastures. His +trousers were tucked into their wrinkled tops, which sagged half-way +down his long calves. + +Taken in the figure alone, he was uncouth and oversized in his common +and scant gear. But the lofty nobility of his severe young face and the +high-lifting forehead, proclaimed to all who were competent in such +matters that it was only his body that was meanly clad. + +Hammer began by asking the usual questions regarding nativity and age, +and led on with the history of Joe's apprenticeship to Chase, the terms +of it, its duration, compensation; of his treatment at his master's +hands, their relations of friendliness, and all that. There was a little +tremor and unsteadiness in Joe's voice at first, as of fright, but this +soon cleared away, and he answered in steady tones. + +The jurors had straightened up out of their wearied apathy, and were +listening now with all ears. Joe did not appear to comprehend their +importance in deciding his fate, people thought, seeing that he turned +from them persistently and addressed the judge. + +Joe had taken the stand against Hammer's advice and expectation, for he +had hoped in the end to be able to make his client see the danger of +such a step unless he should go forward in the intention of revealing +everything. Now the voluble lawyer was winded. He proceeded with extreme +caution in his questioning, like one walking over mined ground, fearing +that he might himself lead his client into some fateful admission. + +They at length came down to the morning that Isom went away to the +county-seat to serve on the jury, and all had progressed handsomely. Now +Joe told how Isom had patted him on the shoulder that morning, for it +had been the aim of Hammer all along to show that master and man were on +the most friendly terms, and how Isom had expressed confidence in him. +He recounted how, in discharge of the trust that Isom had put in him, he +had come downstairs on the night of the tragedy to look around the +premises, following in all particulars his testimony on this point +before the coroner's jury. + +Since beginning his story, Joe had not looked at Ollie. His attention +had been divided between Hammer and the judge, turning from one to the +other. He addressed the jury only when admonished by Hammer to do so, +and then he frequently prefaced his reply to Hammer's question with: + +"I beg your pardon, gentlemen," as if he feared he might have hurt their +feelings by his oversight. + +Ollie was cold with apprehension as Joe approached the point in his +recital where the danger lay for her. He seemed now to be unaware of her +presence, and the fact that he did not seek to assure her with his eyes +gave a somber color to her doubts. She knew Hammer's crafty reputation, +and understood his eagerness to bring his client off clear. Perhaps he +had worked on Joe to make a clean breast of it. Maybe he was going to +tell. + +All her confidence of a little while ago dissolved, the ease which +followed her descent from the witness-chair vanished. She plucked at her +dark vestments with trembling hands, her lips half open, her burning +eyes on Joe's unmoved face. If he should tell before all these people, +before that stern, solemn judge--if he should tell! + +Joe went on with his story, Hammer endeavoring to lead him, to the best +of his altogether inadequate ability, around the dangerous shoals. But +there was no avoiding them. When it came to relating the particulars of +the tragedy, Hammer left it all to Joe, and Joe told the story, in all +essentials, just as he had told it under the questioning of the +coroner. + +"We had some words, and Isom started for the gun," said he. + +He went over how he had grappled with Isom in an endeavor to prevent him +turning the gun against him; told of the accidental discharge of the +weapon; the arrival of Sol Greening. + +Judge Maxwell leaned back in his chair and listened, his face a study of +perplexity and interest. Now and then he lifted his drooping lids and +shot a quick, searching glance at the witness, as if seeking to fathom +the thing that he had covered--the motive for Isom Chase's act. It was +such an inadequate story, yet what there was of it was undoubtedly +true. + +After Hammer had asked further questions tending to establish the fact +of good feeling and friendship between Joe and Isom, he gave it over, +knowing full well that Joe had set back his chances of acquittal further +than he had advanced them by his persistency in testifying as he had +done. + +The jury was now in a fog of doubt, as anybody with half an eye could +see, and there was Sam Lucas waiting, his eyes glistening, his hard lips +set in anticipation of the coming fight. + +"Take the witness," said Hammer, with something in his manner like a +sigh. + +The prosecuting attorney came up to it like a hound on the scent. He had +been waiting for that day. He proceeded with Joe in a friendly manner, +and went over the whole thing with him again, from the day that he +entered Isom's house under bond service to the night of the tragedy. Sam +Lucas went with Joe to the gate; he stood with him in the moonlight +there; then he accompanied him back to the house, clinging to him like +his own garments. + +"And when you opened the kitchen door and stepped inside of that room, +what did you do?" asked the prosecutor, arranging the transcript of +Joe's testimony before the coroner's jury in his hands. + +"I lit the lamp," said Joe. + +"Yes; you lit the lamp. Now, _why_ did you light the lamp?" + +"Because I wanted to see," replied Joe. + +"Exactly. You wanted to see." + +Here the prosecutor moved his eyes slowly along the two rows of jurors +as if he wanted to make certain that none of them had escaped, and as if +he desired to see that every one of them was alert and wakeful for what +he was about to develop. + +"Now, tell the jury _what_ you wanted to see." + +"Object!" from Hammer, who rose with his right hand held high, his small +finger and thumb doubled in his palm, like a bidder at an auction. + +"Now, your honor, am I to be--" began the prosecutor with wearied +patience. + +"Object!" interrupted Hammer, sweating like a haymaker. + +"To _what_ do you object, Mr. Hammer?" asked the court mildly. + +"To anything and everything he's about to ask!" said Hammer hotly. + +The court-room received this with a laugh, for there were scores of +cornfield lawyers present. The judge smiled, balancing a pen between +finger and thumb. + +"The objection is overruled," said he. + +"When you lit that lamp, what did you want to see?" the prosecutor asked +again. + +"I wanted to see my way upstairs," Joe answered. + +The prosecutor threw off his friendly manner like a rustic flinging his +coat for a fight. He stepped to the foot of the dais on which the +witness chair stood, and aimed his finger at Joe's face. + +"What were you carrying in your hand?" he demanded, advancing his finger +a little with every word, as if it held the key to the mystery, and it +was about to be inserted in the lock. + +"Nothing, sir." + +"What had you hidden in that room that you wanted a light to find?" + +Ha, he's coming down to it now! whispered the people, turning wise looks +from man to man. Uncle Posen Spratt set his horn trumpet to his ear, +gave it a twist and settled the socket of it so firmly that not a word +could leak out on the way. + +"I hadn't hidden anything, sir," said Joe. + +"Where did Isom Chase keep his money?" + +"I don't know." + +"Had you ever seen him putting any of it away around the barn, or in the +haystack, maybe?" + +"No, I never did, sir," Joe answered, respectfully. + +The prosecutor took up the now historic bag of gold-pieces and held it +up before the witness. + +"When did you first see this bag of money?" he asked, solemn and severe +of voice and bearing. + +"When Isom was lying on the floor, after he was shot." + +"You didn't see it when he was trying to get the gun, and when you say +you were struggling with him, doing the best you could to hold him +back?" + +Joe turned to the judge when he answered. + +"It might have been that Isom had it in his arm, sir, when he made for +the place where the gun was hanging. I don't know. But he tried to keep +me off, and he hugged one arm to his side like he was trying to hide +something he didn't want me to see." + +"You never saw that bag of money until the moment that Isom Chase fell, +you say," said the prosecutor, "but you have testified that the first +words of Isom Chase when he stepped into the kitchen and saw you, were +'I'll kill you!' Why did he make that threat?" + +"Well, Isom was a man of unreasonable temper," said Joe. + +"Isn't it a fact that Isom Chase saw you with that bag of money in your +hand when he came in, and sprang for the gun to protect his property?" + +Joe turned to the judge again, with an air of respectful patience. + +"I never saw that little pouch of money, Judge Maxwell, sir, until Isom +fell, and lay stretched out there on the floor. I never saw that much +money before in my life, and I expect that I thought more about it for a +minute than I did about Isom. It all happened so quick, you know, sir." + +Joe spoke the last words with a covert appeal in them, as if placing the +matter before the judge alone, in the confidence of his superior +understanding, and the belief that he would feel their truth. + +The judge seemed to understand. He nodded encouragingly and smiled. + +"Do you recall the morning after your arrival at the home of Isom Chase +to begin your service there, when you threatened to kill him?" asked the +prosecutor. + +"I do recall that morning," admitted Joe; "but I don't feel that it's +fair to hold me to account for words spoken in sudden anger and under +trying circumstances. A young person, you know, sir"--addressing the +judge--"oftentimes says things he don't mean, and is sorry for the next +minute. You know how hot the blood of youth is, sir, and how it drives a +person to say more than he means sometimes." + +"Now, your honor, this defendant has counsel to plead for him at the +proper time," complained the prosecutor, "and I demand that he confine +himself to answering my questions without comment." + +"Let the witness explain in his own way," said the judge, who probably +felt that this concession, at least, was due a man on trial for his +life. There was a finality in his words which did not admit of dispute, +and the prosecuting attorney was wise enough not to attempt it. + +"You threatened to kill Isom Chase that morning when he laid hands on +you and pulled you out of bed. Your words were, as you have heard Mrs. +Chase testify under oath in that very chair where you now sit, 'If you +hit me, I'll kill you in your tracks!' Those were your words, were they +not?" + +"I expect I said something like that--I don't just remember the exact +words now--but that was what I wanted him to understand. I don't think +I'd have hurt him very much, though, and I couldn't have killed him, +because I wasn't armed. It was a hot-blooded threat, that's all it +was." + +"You didn't ordinarily pack a gun around with you, then?" + +"No, sir, I never did pack a gun." + +"But you said you'd kill old Isom up there in the loft that morning, and +you said it in a way that made him think you meant it. That's what you +wanted him to understand, wasn't it?" + +"I talked rough, but I didn't mean it--not as bad as that anyhow." + +"No, that was just a little neighborly joke, I suppose," said the +prosecutor sneeringly. He was playing for a laugh and he got it. + +Captain Taylor almost skinned his knuckles rapping them down that time, +although the mirth was neither general nor boisterous. Joe did not add +to Lucas's comment, and he went on: + +"Well, what were you doing when Isom Chase opened the door and came into +the kitchen that night when he came home from serving on the jury?" + +"I was standing by the table," said Joe. + +"With your hat in your hand, or on your head, or where?" + +"My hat was on the table. I usually left it there at night, so it would +be handy when I came down in the morning. I threw it there when I went +in, before I lit the lamp." + +"And you say that Isom opened the door, came in and said, 'I'll kill +you!' Now, what did he say before that?" + +"Not a word, sir," insisted Joe. + +"Who else was in that room?" + +"Nobody, sir." + +The prosecutor leaned forward, his face as red as if he struggled to +lift a heavy weight. + +"Do you mean to sit there and tell this jury that Isom Chase stepped +right into that room and threatened to kill you without any reason, +without any previous quarrel, without seeing you doing something that +gave him ground for his threat?" + +Joe moved his feet uneasily, clasped and unclasped his long fingers +where they rested on the arm of his chair, and moistened his lips with +his tongue. The struggle was coming now. They would rack him, and tear +him, and break his heart. + +"I don't know whether they'll believe it or not," said he at last. + +"Where was Ollie Chase when Isom came into that room?" asked the +prosecutor, lowering his voice as the men who tiptoed around old Isom +when he lay dead on the kitchen floor had lowered theirs. + +"You have heard her say that she was in her room upstairs," said Joe. + +"But I am asking you this question," the prosecutor reminded him +sharply. "Where was Ollie Chase?" + +Joe did not meet his questioner's eyes when he answered. His head was +bowed slightly, as if in thought. + +"She was in her room, I suppose. She'd been in bed a long time, for it +was nearly midnight then." + +The prosecuting attorney pursued this line of questioning to a +persistent and trying length. He wanted to know all about the relations +of Joe and Ollie; where their respective rooms were, how they passed to +and from them, and the entire scheme of the household economy. + +He asked Joe pointedly, and swung back to that question abruptly and +with sharp challenge many times, whether he ever made love to Ollie; +whether he ever held her hands, kissed her, talked with her when Isom +was not by to hear what was said. + +The people snuggled down and forgot the oncoming darkness, the gray +forerunner of which already had invaded the room as they listened. This +was what they wanted to hear; this was, in their opinion, getting down +to the thing that the prosecutor should have taken up at the beginning +and pushed to the guilty end. They had come there, day after day, and +sat patiently waiting for that very thing. But the great sensation which +they expected seemed a tedious thing in its development. + +Joe calmly denied the prosecutor's imputations, and put them aside with +an evenness of temper and dignity which lifted him to a place of high +regard in the heart of every woman present, from grandmother to +high-school miss. For even though a woman believes her sister guilty, +she admires the man who knows when to hold his tongue. + +For two hours and more Sam Lucas kept hammering away at the stern +front of the defendant witness. He had expected to break him down, +simple-minded country lad that he supposed him to be, in a quarter of +that time, and draw from him the truth of the matter in every detail. It +was becoming evident that Joe was feeling the strain. The tiresome +repetition of the questions, the unvarying denial, the sudden sorties +of the prosecutor in attempt to surprise him, and the constant labor of +guarding against it--all this was heaping up into a terrific load. + +Time and again Joe's eyes had gone to the magnet of Alice Price's face, +and always he had seen her looking straight at him--steadily, +understandingly, as if she read his purpose. He was satisfied that +she knew him to be innocent of that crime, as well as any of the +indiscretions with Ollie which the prosecutor had attempted to force +him to admit. If he could have been satisfied with that assurance +alone, his hour would have been blessed. But he looked for more in +every fleeting glance that his eyes could wing to her, and in the +turmoil of his mind he was unable to find that which he sought. + +Sam Lucas, seeing that the witness was nearing the point of mental and +physical strain at which men go to pieces, and the vigil which they have +held above their secrets becomes open to surprise, hung to him with his +worriment of questions, scarcely granting him time to sigh. + +Joe was pestered out of his calm and dignified attitude. He twisted in +his chair, where many a confounded and beset soul had writhed before +him, and ran his fingers through his long hair, disturbing it into +fantastic disorder. His breath came through his open lips, his shoulders +sagged wearily, his long back was bent as he drooped forward, whipping +his fagged mind to alertness, guarding every word now, weighing every +answer a deliberate while. Sweat drenched his face and dampened the +thick wisps of hair. He scooped the welling moisture from his forehead +with his crooked finger and flung it to the floor with a rustic trick of +the fields. + +Sam Lucas gave him no respite. Moment by moment he pressed the panting +race harder, faster; moment by moment he grew more exacting, imperative +and pressing in his demands for unhesitating replies. While he harassed +and urged the sweating victim, the prosecutor's eyes narrowed, his thin +lips pressed hard against his teeth. The moment was approaching for the +final assault, for the fierce delivery of the last, invincible dart. + +The people felt it coming, and panted with the acute pleasures of +expectation; Hammer saw its hovering shadow, and rose to his feet; Mrs. +Newbolt suffered under the strain until she rocked from side to side, +unconscious of all and everybody but herself and Joe, and groaned. + +What were they going to do to Joe--what were they going to do? + +Sam Lucas was hurling his questions into Joe's face, faster and faster. +His voice was shaded now with the inflection of accusation, now +discredit; now it rose to the pitch of condemnation, now it sank to a +hoarse whisper of horror as he dwelt upon the scene in Isom Chase's +kitchen, the body of old Isom stretched in its own blood upon the +floor. + +Joe seemed to stumble over his replies, to grope, to flounder. The agony +of his soul was in his face. And then, in a moment of tortured +desperation he rose from his seat, tall, gaunt, disordered, and clasped +his hand to his forehead as if driven to the utmost bound of his +endurance and to the outer brink of his resources. + +The prosecutor paused with leveled finger, while Joe, remembering +himself, pushed his hair back from his brow like one waking from a hot +and troubled sleep, and resumed his seat. Then suddenly, in full volume +of voice, the prosecutor flung at him the lance for which he had been +weakening Joe's defenses through those long and torturing hours. + +"Tell this jury what the 'words' were which you have testified passed +between you and Isom Chase after he made the threat to kill you, and +before he ran for the gun!" + +Hammer bellowed forth an objection, which was quietly overruled. It +served its purpose in a way, even though it failed in its larger intent, +for the prosecutor's headlong assault was checked by it, the force of +his blow broken. + +Joe sat up as if cold water had been dashed over him. Instead of +crushing him entirely, and driving him to the last corner shrinking, +beaten and spiritless, and no longer capable of resistance, it seemed to +give him a new grip on himself, to set his courage and defiance again on +the fighting line. + +The prosecuting attorney resented Hammer's interference at the moment of +his victory--as he believed it--and turned to him with an ugly scowl. +But Hammer was imperturbable. He saw the advantage that he had gained +for Joe by his interposition, and that was more than he had expected. +Only a moment ago Hammer had believed everything lost. + +Sam Lucas repeated the question. Joe drew himself up, cold and +forbidding of front. He met the prosecutor eye to eye, challenge for +challenge. + +"I can't tell you that, sir," he replied. + +"The time has come when you must tell it, your evasions and dodgings +will not avail you any longer. What were those words between you and +Isom Chase?" + +"I'm sorry to have to refuse you--" began Joe. + +"Answer--my--question!" ordered the prosecutor in loud voice, banging +his hand upon the table to accent its terror. + +In the excitement of the moment people rose from their seats, women +dropping things which they had held in their laps, and clasping other +loose articles of apparel to their skirts as they stood uncouthly, like +startled fowls poising for flight. + +Joe folded his arms across his chest and looked into the prosecutor's +inflamed face. He seemed to erect between himself and his inquisitor in +that simple movement an impenetrable shield, but he said nothing. Hammer +was up, objecting, making the most of the opportunity. Captain Taylor +rapped on the panel of the old oak door; the crouching figures in the +crowd settled back to their seats with rustlings and sighs. + +Sam Lucas turned to the judge, the whiteness of deeper anger sweeping +the flush of excitement from his face. His voice trembled. + +"I insist, your honor, that the witness answer my question!" + +Hammer demanded that the court instruct his client regarding his +constitutional privileges. Mrs. Newbolt leaned forward and held out her +hands in dumb pleading toward her son, imploring him to speak. + +"If the matter which you are withholding," began the judge in formal +speech, "would tend to incriminate you, then you are acting within your +constitutional rights in refusing to answer. If not, then you can be +lodged in jail for contempt of court, and held there until you answer +the question which the prosecuting attorney has asked you. Do you +understand this?" + +"Yes, sir; I understand," said Joe. + +"Then," said the judge, "would it incriminate you to reply to the +prosecuting attorney's question?" + +A faint flush spread on Joe's face as he replied: + +"No, Judge Maxwell, it wouldn't incriminate me, sir." + +Free for the moment from his watchful sword-play of eyes with the +prosecutor, Joe had sought Alice's face when he replied to the judge. He +was still holding her eyes when the judge spoke again. + +"Then you must answer the question, or stand in contempt of court," said +he. + +Joe rose slowly to his feet. The sheriff, perhaps thinking that he +designed making a dash for liberty, or to throw himself out of a window, +rushed forward in official zeal. The judge, studying Joe's face +narrowly, waved the officer back. Joe lifted a hand to his forehead in +thoughtful gesture and stroked back his hair, standing thus in studious +pose a little while. A thousand eyes were bent upon him; five hundred +palpitating brains were aching for the relief of his reply. Joe lifted +his head and turned solemnly to the judge. + +"I can't answer the prosecuting attorney's question, sir," he said. "I'm +ready to be taken back to jail." + +The jurors had been leaning out of their places to listen, the older +ones with hands cupped to their ears. Now they settled back with +disappointed faces, some of them shaking their heads in depreciation of +such stubbornness. + +"You are making a point of honor of it?" said the judge, sharply but not +unkindly, looking over his glasses at the raw citadel of virtue which +rose towerlike before him. + +"If you will forgive me, sir, I have no more to say," said Joe, a +flitting shadow, as of pain, passing over his face. + +"Sit down," said the judge. + +The prosecutor, all on fire from his smothered attempt to uncover the +information which he believed himself so nearly in possession of, +started to say something, and Hammer got the first syllable of his +objection out of his mouth, when the judge waved both of them down. He +turned in his chair to Joe, who was waiting calmly now the next event. + +Judge Maxwell addressed him again. He pointed out to Joe that, since he +had taken the witness-stand, he had thus professed his willingness to +lay bare all his knowledge of the tragedy, and that his reservation was +an indication of insincerity. The one way in which he could have +withheld information not of a self-incriminating nature, was for him to +have kept off the stand. He showed Joe that one could not come forward +under such circumstances and tell one side of a story, or a part of it, +confessing at the same time that certain pertinent information was +reserved. + +"No matter who it hurts, it is your duty now to reveal the cause of your +quarrel between yourself and Isom Chase that night, and to repeat, to +the best of your recollection, the words which passed between you." + +He explained that, unless Joe should answer the question, it was the one +duty of the court to halt the trial there and send him to jail in +contempt, and hold him there, his case undecided, until he would answer +the question asked. + +Joe bowed respectfully when the judge concluded, conveying in that +manner that he understood. + +"If anything could be gained by it, sir, by anybody--except myself, +perhaps--or if it would bring Isom back to life, or make anybody +happier, I wouldn't refuse a minute, sir," said Joe. "What Mr. Lucas +asks me to tell I've refused to tell before. I've refused to tell it for +my own mother and Mr. Hammer and--others. I respect the law and this +court, sir, as much as any man in this room, and it pains me to stand in +this position before you, sir. + +"But I can't talk about that. It wouldn't change what I've told about +the way Isom was killed. What I've told you is the truth. What passed +between Isom and me before he took hold of the gun isn't mine to tell. +That's all there is to be said, Judge Maxwell, sir." + +"You must answer the prosecuting attorney's question," said Judge +Maxwell sternly. "No matter what motive of honor or fealty to the dead, +or thought of sparing the living, may lie behind your concealment of +these facts, the law does not, cannot, take it into account. Your duty +now is to reply to all questions asked, and you will be given another +opportunity to do so. Proceed, Mr. Prosecutor." + +Hammer had given it up. He sat like a man collapsed, bending over his +papers on the table, trying to make a front in his defeat before the +public. The prosecuting attorney resumed the charge, framing his attack +in quick lunges. He was in a clinch, using the short-arm jab. + +"After Isom Chase came into the room you had words?" + +"We had some words," replied Joe slowly, weary that this thing should +have to be gone over again. + +"Were they loud and boisterous words, or were they low and subdued?" + +"Well, Isom talked pretty loud when he was mad," said Joe. + +"Loud enough for anybody upstairs to hear--loud enough to wake anybody +asleep up there?" + +"I don't know," said Joe coldly, resentful of this flanking subterfuge. + +He must go through that turmoil of strain and suffering again, all +because Morgan, the author of this evil thing, had lacked the manhood to +come forward and admit his misdeeds. + +The thoughts will travel many a thousand miles while the tongue covers +an inch; even while Joe answered he was thinking of this. More crowded +upon him as he waited the prosecutor's next question. Why should he +suffer all that public misjudgment and humiliation, all that pain and +twisting of the conscience on Morgan's account? What would it avail in +the end? Perhaps Ollie would prove unworthy his sacrifice for her, as +she already had proved ungrateful. Even then the echo of her testimony +against him was in his ears. + +Why should he hold out faithfully for her, in the hope that Morgan would +come--vain hope, fruitless dream! Morgan would not come. He was safe, +far away from there, having his laugh over the muddle that he had made +of their lives. + +"I will ask you again--what were the words that passed between you and +Isom Chase that night?" + +Joe heard the question dimly. His mind was on Morgan and the white road +of the moonlit night when he drove away. No, Morgan would not come. + +"Will you answer my question?" demanded the prosecutor. + +Joe turned to him with a start. "Sir?" said he. + +The prosecutor repeated it, and stood leaning forward for the answer, +his hands on the table. Joe bent his head as if thinking it over. + +And there lay the white road in the moonlight, and the click of buggy +wheels over gravel was in his ears, as he knew it must have sounded when +Morgan drove away, easy in his loose conscience, after his loose way. +Why should he sacrifice the promise of his young life by meekly allowing +them to fasten the shadow of this dread tragedy upon him, for which +Morgan alone was to blame? + +It was unfair--it was cruelly unjust! The thought of it was stifling the +breath in his nostrils, it was pressing the blood out of his heart! They +were waiting for the answer, and why should he not speak? What profit +was there in silence when it would be so unjustly interpreted? + +As Ollie had been thoughtless of Isom, so she might be thoughtless of +him, and see in him only a foolish, weak instrument to use to her own +advantage. Why should he seal his lips for Ollie, go to the gallows for +her, perhaps, and leave the blight of that shameful end upon his name +forever? + +He looked up. His mind had made that swift summing up while the +prosecutor's words were echoing in the room. They were waiting for his +answer. Should he speak? + +Mrs. Newbolt had risen. There were tears on her old, worn cheeks, a +yearning in her eyes that smote him with an accusing pang. He had +brought that sorrow upon her, he had left her to suffer under it when a +word would have cleared it away; when a word--a word for which they +waited now--would make her dun day instantly bright. Ollie weighed +against his mother; Ollie, the tainted, the unclean. + +His eyes found Ollie's as he coupled her name with his mother's in his +mind. She was shrinking against her mother's shoulder--she had a mother, +too--pale and afraid. + +Mrs. Newbolt stretched out her hands. The scars of her toilsome years +were upon them; the distortion of the labor she had wrought for him in +his helpless infancy was set upon their joints. He was placing his +liberty and his life in jeopardy for Ollie, and his going would leave +mother without a stay, after her sacrifice of youth and hope and +strength for him. + +Why should he be called upon to do this thing--why, _why_? + +The question was a wild cry within his breast, lunging like a wolf in a +leash to burst his lips. His mother drew a step nearer, unstayed by the +sheriff, unchecked by the judge. She spread her poor hands in +supplication; the tears coursed down her brown old cheeks. + +"Oh, my son, my son--my little son!" she said. + +He saw her dimly now, for tears answered her tears. All was silent in +that room, the silence of the forest before the hurricane grasps it and +bends it, and the lightnings reave its limbs. + +"Mother," said he chokingly, "I--I don't know what to do!" + +"Tell it all, Joe!" she pleaded. "Oh, tell it all--tell it all!" + +Her voice was little louder than a whisper, yet it was heard by every +mother in that room. It struck down into their hearts with a sharp, +riving stab of sympathy, which nothing but sobs would relieve. + +Men clamped their teeth and gazed straight ahead at the moving scene, +unashamed of the tears which rolled across their cheeks and threaded +down their beards; the prosecutor, leaning on his hands, bent forward +and waited. + +Joe's mind was in a tornado. The débris of past resolutions was flung +high, and swirled and dashed in a wild tumult. There was nothing +tangible in his reasoning, nothing plain in his sight. A mist was before +his eyes, a fog was over his reason. Only there was mother, with those +soul-born tears upon her face. It seemed to him then that his first and +his most sacred duty was to her. + +The seconds were as hours. The low moaning of women sounded in the room. +Somebody moved a foot, scraping it in rude dissonance across the floor. +A girl's voice broke out in sudden sobbing, which was as quickly +stifled, with sharp catching of the breath. + +Judge Maxwell moved in his chair, turning slowly toward the witness, and +silence fell. + +They were waiting; they were straining against his doubts and his +weakening resolution of past days, with the concentration of half a +thousand minds. + +A moment of joy is a drop of honey on the tongue; a moment of pain is +bitterer than any essence that Ignatius ever distilled from his evil +bean. The one is as transitory as a smile; the other as lingering as a +broken bone. + +Joe had hung in the balance but a matter of seconds, but it seemed to +him a day. Now he lifted his slim, white hand and covered his eyes. They +were waiting for the word out there, those uplifted, eager faces; the +judge waited, the jury waited, mother waited. They were wringing it from +him, and honor's voice was dim in its counsel now, and far away. + +They were pressing it out of his heart. The law demanded it, justice +demanded it, said the judge. Duty to mother demanded it, and the call of +all that lay in life and liberty. But for one cool breath of sympathy +before he yielded--for one gleam of an eye that understood! + +He dropped his hand at his side, and cast about him in hungry appeal. +Justice demanded it, and the law. But it would be ignoble to yield, even +though Morgan came the next hour and cleared the stain away. + +Joe opened his lips, but they were dry, and no sound issued. He must +speak, or his heart would burst. He moistened his lips with his hot +tongue. They were demanding his answer with a thousand burning eyes. + +"Tell it, Joe--tell it all!" pleaded his mother, reaching out as if to +take his hand. + +Joe's lips parted, and his voice came out of them, strained and shaken, +and hoarse, like the voice of an old and hoary man. + +"Judge Maxwell, your honor----" + +"No, no! Don't tell it, Joe!" + +The words sounded like a warning call to one about to leap to +destruction. They broke the tenseness of that moment like the noise of a +shot. It was a woman's voice, rich and full in the cadence of youth; +eager, quick, and strong. + +Mrs. Newbolt turned sharply, her face suddenly clouded, as if to +administer a rebuke; the prosecutor wheeled about and peered into the +room with a scowl. Judge Maxwell rapped commandingly, a frown on his +face. + +And Joe Newbolt drew a long, free breath, while relief moved over his +troubled face like a waking wind at dawn. He leaned back in his chair, +taking another long breath, as if life had just been granted him at a +moment when hope seemed gone. + +The effect of that sudden warning had been stunning. For a few seconds +the principals in the dramatic picture held their poses, as if standing +for the camera. And then the lowering tempest in Judge Maxwell's face +broke. + +"Mr. Sheriff, find out who that was and bring him or her forward!" he +commanded. + +There was no need for the sheriff to search on Joe's behalf. Quick as a +bolt his eyes had found her, and doubt was consumed in the glance which +passed between them. Now he knew all that he had struggled to know of +everything. First of all, there stood the justification of his long +endurance. He had been right. She had understood, and her opinion was +valid against the world. + +Even as the judge was speaking, Alice Price rose. + +"It was I, sir," she confessed, no shame in her manner, no contrition in +her voice. + +But the ladies in the court-room were shocked for her, as ladies the +world over are shocked when one of their sisters does an unaccountably +human thing. They made their feelings public by scandalized aspirations, +suppressed _oh-h-hs_, and deprecative shakings of the heads. + +The male portion of the audience was moved in another direction. Their +faces were blank with stunned surprise, with little gleams of admiration +moving a forest of whiskers here and there whose owners did not know who +the speaker was. + +But to everybody who knew Alice Price the thing was unaccountable. It +was worse than interrupting the preacher in the middle of a prayer, and +the last thing that Alice Price, with all her breeding, blood and +education would have been expected to do. That was what came of leveling +oneself to the plane of common people and "pore" folks, and visiting +them in jail, they said to one another through their wide-stretched +eyes. + +Alice went forward and stood before the railing. The prosecuting +attorney drew out a chair and offered it to Mrs. Newbolt, who sat, +staring at Alice with no man knew what in her heart. Her face was a +strange index of disappointment, surprise, and vexation. She said +nothing, and Hammer, glowing with the dawning of hope of something that +he could not well define, squared around and gave Alice a large, fat +smile. + +Judge Maxwell regarded her with more surprise than severity, it +appeared. He adjusted his glasses, bowed his neck to look over them, +frowned, and cleared his throat. And poor old Colonel Price, overwhelmed +entirely by this untoward breach of his daughter's, stood beside Captain +Taylor shaking his old white head as if he was undone forever. + +"I am surprised at this demonstration, Miss Price," said the judge. +"Coming from one of your standing in this community, it is doubly +shocking, for your position in society should be, of itself, a guarantee +of your loyalty to the established organization of order. It should be +your endeavor to uphold rather than defeat, the ends of justice. + +"The defendant at the bar has the benefit of counsel, who is competent, +we believe, to advise him. Your admonition was altogether out of place. +I am pained and humiliated for you, Miss Price. + +"This breach is one which could not, ordinarily, be passed over simply +with a reprimand. But, allowing for the impetuosity of youth, and the +emotion of the moment, the court will excuse you with this. Similar +outbreaks must be guarded against, and any further demonstration will be +dealt with severely. Gentlemen, proceed with the case." + +Alice stood through the judge's lecture unflinchingly. Her face was +pale, for she realized the enormity of her transgression, but there was +neither fear nor regret in her heart. She met the judge's eyes with +honest courage, and bowed her head in acknowledgment of his leniency +when he dismissed her. + +From her seat she smiled, faintly above the tremor of her breast, to +Joe. She was not ashamed of what she had done, she had no defense to +make for her words. Love is its own justification, it wants no advocate +to plead for it before the bar of established usage. Its statutes have +needed no revision since the beginning, they will stand unchanged until +the end. + +The prosecuting attorney had seen his castle fall, demolished and beyond +hope of repair, before a charge from the soft lips of a simple girl. +Long and hard as he had labored to build it up, and encompass Joe within +it, it was in ruins now, and he had no heart to set his hand to the task +of raising it again that day. He asked for an adjournment to morning, +which the weary judge granted readily. + +People moved out of the room with less haste and noise than usual, for +the wonder, and the puzzle, of what they had heard and seen was over +them. + +What was the aim of that girl in shutting that big, gangling, raw-boned +boy's mouth just when he was opening it to speak, and to speak the very +words which they had sat there patiently for days to hear? What was he +to Alice Price, and what did she know of the secret which he had been +keeping shut behind his stubborn lips all that time? That was what they +wanted to know, and that was what troubled them because they could not +make it out at all. + +Colonel Price made his way forward against the outpouring stream to +Alice. He adjusted her cloak around her shoulders, and whispered to her. +She was very pale still, but her eyes were fearless and bright, and they +followed Joe Newbolt with a tender caress as the sheriff led him out, +his handcuffs in his pocket, the prisoner's long arms swinging free. + +Ollie and her mother were standing near Colonel Price and Alice, waiting +for them to move along and open the passage to the aisle. As Alice +turned from looking after Joe, the eyes of the young women met, and +again Ollie felt the cold stern question which Alice seemed to ask her, +and to insist with unsparing hardness that she answer. + +A little way along Alice turned her head and held Ollie's eyes with her +own again. As plain as words they said to the young widow who cringed at +her florid mother's side: + +"You slinking, miserable, trembling coward, I can see right down to the +bottom of your heart!" + +Joe returned to his cell with new vigor in his step, new warmth in his +breast, and a new hope in his jaded soul. There was no doubt now, no +groping for a sustaining hand. Alice had understood him, and Alice +alone, when all the world assailed him for his secret, and would have +torn it from his lips in shame. She had given him the sympathy, for the +lack of which he must have fallen; the support, for the want of which he +must have been lost. + +For a trying moment that afternoon he had forgotten, almost, that he was +a gentleman, and under a gentleman's obligation. There had been so much +uncertainty, and fear, and so many clouded days. But a man had no +excuse, he contended in his new strength, even under the direst +pressure, to lose sight of the fact that he was a gentleman. Morgan had +done that. Morgan had not come. But perhaps Morgan was not a gentleman +at all. That would account for a great deal, everything, in fact. + +There would be a way out without Morgan now. Since Alice understood, +there would be shown a way. He should not perish on account of Morgan, +and even though he never came it would not matter greatly, now that +Alice understood. + +He was serene, peaceful, and unworried, as he had not been for one +moment since the inquest. The point of daylight had come again into his +dark perspective; it was growing and gleaming with the promise and cheer +of a star. + +Colonel Price had no word of censure for his daughter as they held their +way homeward, and no word of comment on her extraordinary and +immodest--according to the colonel's view--conduct fell from his lips +until they were free from the crowd. Then the colonel: + +"Well, Alice?" + +"Yes, Father." + +"Why did you do it--why didn't you let him tell it, child? They'll hang +him now, I tell you, they'll hang that boy as sure as sundown! And he's +no more guilty of that old man's death than I am." + +"No, he isn't," said she. + +"Then why didn't you let him talk, Alice? What do you know?" + +"I don't know anything--anything that would be evidence," she replied. +"But he's been a man all through this cruel trial, and I'd rather see +him die a man than live a coward!" + +"They'll hang that boy, Alice," said the colonel, shaking his head +sadly. "Nothing short of a miracle can save him now." + +"No, they'll never do that," said she, in quiet faith. + +The colonel looked at her with an impatient frown. + +"What's to save him, child?" he asked. + +"I don't know," she admitted, thoughtfully. Then she proceeded, with an +earnestness that was almost passionate: "It isn't for himself that he's +keeping silent--I'm not afraid for _him_ on account of what they wanted +to make him tell! Can't you see that, Father, don't you understand?" + +"No," said the colonel, striking the pavement sharply with his stick, +"I'll be switched if I do! But I know this bad business has taken hold +of you, Alice, and changed you around until you're nothing like the girl +I used to have. + +"It's too melancholy and sordid for you to be mixed up in. I don't like +it. We've done what we can for the boy, and if he wants to be stubborn +and run his neck into the noose on account of some fool thing or another +that he thinks nobody's got a right to know, I don't see where you're +called on to shove him along on his road. And that's what this thing +that you've done today amounts to, as far as I can see." + +"I'm sorry that you're displeased with me, Father," said she, but with +precious little indication of humility in her voice, "but I'd do the +same thing over again tomorrow. Joe didn't want to tell it. What he +needed just then was a friend." + +That night after supper, when Colonel Price sat in the library gazing +into the coals, Alice came in softly and put her arm about his +shoulders, nestling her head against his, her cheek warm against his +temple. + +"You think I'm a bold, brazen creature, Father, I'm afraid," she said. + +"The farthest thing from it in this world," said he. "I've been thinking +over it, and I know that you were right. It's inscrutable to me, Alice; +I lack that God-given intuition that a woman has for such things. But I +know that you were right, and time and events will justify you." + +"You remember that both Mr. Hammer and Mr. Lucas asked Joe and Mrs. +Chase a good deal about a book-agent boarder, Curtis Morgan?" said she. + +"Only in the way of incidental questioning," he said. "Why?" + +"Don't you remember him? He was that tall, fair man who sold us the +_History of the World_, wasn't he?" + +"Why, it is the same name," said the colonel. "He was a man with a quick +eye and a most curious jumble of fragmentary knowledge on many subjects, +from roses to rattlesnakes. Yes, I remember the fellow very well, since +you speak of him." + +"Yes. And he had little fair curls growing close to his eyes," said she. +"It's the same man, I'm certain of that." + +"Why, what difference does it make?" asked he. + +"Not any--in particular--I suppose," she sighed. + +The colonel stroked her hair. + +"Well, Alice, you're taking this thing too much at heart, anyhow," he +said. + +Later that night, long after Joe Newbolt had wearied himself in pacing +up and down his cell, with the glow of his new hope growing brighter as +his legs grew heavier, Alice sat by her window, gazing with fixed eyes +into the dark. + +On her lips there was a name and a message, which she sent out from her +heart with all the dynamic intensity of her strong, young being. A name +and a message; and she sped them from her lips into the night, to roam +the world like a searching wind. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE SHADOW OF A DREAM + + +Judge Little was moving about mysteriously. It was said that he had +found track of Isom's heir, and that the county was to have its second +great sensation soon. + +Judge Little did not confirm this report, but, like the middling-good +politician that he was, he entered no denial. As long as the public is +uncertain either way, its suspense is more exquisite, the pleasure of +the final revelation is more sweet. + +Riding home from the trial on the day that Joe made his appearance on +the witness-stand, Sol Greening fell in with the judge and, with his +nose primed to follow the scent of any new gossip, Sol worked his way +into the matter of the will. + +"Well, I hear you've got track of Isom's boy at last, Judge?" said he, +pulling up close beside the judge's mount, so the sound of the horses' +feet sucking loose from the clay of the muddy road would not cheat him +out of a word. + +Judge Little rode a low, yellow horse, commonly called a "buckskin" in +that country. He had come to town unprovided with a rubber coat, and his +long black garment of ordinary wear was damp from the blowing mists +which presaged the coming rain. In order to save the skirts of it, in +which the precious and mysterious pockets were, the judge had gathered +them up about his waist, as an old woman gathers her skirts on wash-day. +He sat in the saddle, holding them that way with one hand, while he +handled the reins with the other. + +"All things are possible," returned the judge, his tight old mouth +screwed up after the words, as if more stood in the door and required +the utmost vigilance to prevent them popping forth. + +Sol admitted that all things were indeed possible, although he had his +doubts about the probability of a great many he could name. But he was +wise enough to know that one must agree with a man if one desires to get +into his warm favor, and it was his purpose on that ride to milk Judge +Little of whatever information tickling his vanity, as an ant tickles an +aphis, would cause him to yield. + +"Well, he's got a right smart property waitin' him when he comes," said +Sol, feeling important and comfortable just to talk of all that Isom +left. + +"A considerable," agreed the judge. + +"Say forty or fifty thousand worth, heh?" + +"Nearer seventy or eighty, the way land's advancing in this county," +corrected the judge. + +Sol whistled his amazement. There was no word in his vocabulary as +eloquent as that. + +"Well, all I got to say is that if it was me he left it to, it wouldn't +take no searchin' to find me," he said. "Is he married?" + +"Very likely he is married," said the judge, with that portentous +repression and caution behind his words which some people are able to +use with such mysterious effect. + +"Shades of catnip!" said Sol. + +They rode on a little way in silence, Sol being quite exhausted on +account of his consuming surprise over what he believed himself to be +finding out. Presently he returned to his prying, and asked: + +"Can Ollie come in for her dower rights in case the court lets Isom's +will stand?" + +"That is a question," replied the judge, deliberating at his pause and +sucking in his cheeks, "which will have to be decided." + +"Does he favor Isom any?" asked Sol. + +"Who?" queried the judge. + +"Isom's boy." + +"There doubtless is some resemblance--it is only natural that there +should be a resemblance between father and son," nodded the judge. "But +as for myself, I cannot say." + +"You ain't seen him, heh?" said Sol, eyeing him sharply. + +"Not exactly," allowed the judge. + +"Land o' Moab!" said Sol. + +They rode on another eighty rods without a word between them. + +"Got his picture, I reckon?" asked Sol at last, sounding the judge's +face all the while with his eager eyes. + +"I turn off here," said the judge. "I'm takin' the short cut over the +ford and through Miller's place. Looks like the rain would thicken." + +He gave Sol good day, and turned off into a brush-grown road which +plunged into the woods. + +Sol went on his way, stirred by comfortable emotions. What a story he +meant to spread next day at the county-seat; what a piece of news he was +going to be the source of, indeed! + +Of course, Sol had no knowledge of what was going forward at the county +farm that very afternoon, even the very hour when Joe Newbolt was +sweating blood on the witness stand, If he had known, it is not likely +that he would have waited until morning to spread the tale abroad. + +This is what it was. + +Ollie's lawyer was there in consultation with Uncle John Owens regarding +Isom's will. Consultation is the word, for it had come to that +felicitous pass between them. Uncle John could communicate his thoughts +freely to his fellow-beings again, and receive theirs intelligently. + +All this had been wrought not by a miracle, but by the systematic +preparation of the attorney, who was determined to sound the secret +which lay locked in that silent mind. If Isom had a son when that will +was made a generation back, Uncle John Owens was the man who knew it, +and the only living man. + +In pursuit of this mystery, the lawyer had caused to be printed many +little strips of cardboard in the language of the blind. These covered +all the ground that he desired to explore, from preliminaries to climax, +with every pertinent question which his fertile mind could shape, and +every answer which he felt was due to Uncle John to satisfy his +curiosity and inform him fully of what had transpired. + +The attorney had been waiting for Uncle John to become proficient enough +in his new reading to proceed without difficulty. He had provided the +patriarch with a large slate, which gave him comfortable room for his +big characters. Several days before that which the lawyer had set for +the exploration of the mystery of Isom Chase's heir, they had reached a +perfect footing of understanding. + +Uncle John was a new man. For several weeks he had been making great +progress with the New Testament, printed in letters for the blind, which +had come on the attorney's order speedily. It was an immense volume, as +big as a barn-door, as Uncle John facetiously wrote on his slate, and +when he read it he sat at the table littered over with his interlocked +rings of wood, and his figures of beast and female angels or demons, +which, not yet determined. + +The sun had come out for him again, at the clouded end of his life. It +reached him through the points of his fingers, and warmed him to the +farthest spot, and its welcome was the greater because his night had +been long and its rising late. + +On that afternoon memorable for Joe Newbolt, and all who gathered at the +court-house to hear him, Uncle John learned of the death of Isom Chase. +The manner of his death was not revealed to him in the printed slips of +board, and Uncle John did not ask, very likely accepting it as an event +which comes to all men, and for which he, himself, had long been +prepared. + +After that fact had been imparted to the blind preacher, the lawyer +placed under his eager fingers a slip which read: + +"Did you ever witness Isom Chase's will?" + +Uncle John took his slate and wrote: + +"Yes." + +"When?" + +"Thirty or forty years ago," wrote Uncle John--what was a decade more or +less to him? "When he joined the Order." + +Uncle John wrote this with his face bright in the joy of being able to +hold intelligent communication once more. + +More questioning brought out the information that it was a rule of the +secret brotherhood which Isom had joined in those far days, for each +candidate for initiation to make his will before the administration of +the rites. + +"What a sturdy old goat that must have been!" thought the lawyer. + +"Do you remember to whom Isom left his property in that will?" read the +pasteboard under the old man's hands. + +Uncle John smiled, reminiscently, and nodded. + +"To his son," he wrote. "Isom was the name." + +"Do you know when and where that son was born?" + +Uncle John's smile was broader, and of purely humorous cast, as he bent +over the slate and began to write carefully, in smaller hand than usual, +as if he had a great deal to say. + +"He never was born," he wrote, "not up to the time that I lost the +world. Isom was a man of Belial all his days that I knew him. He was set +on a son from his wedding day. + +"The last time I saw him I joked him about that will, and told him he +would have to change it. He said no, it would stand that way. He said he +would get a son yet. Abraham was a hundred when Isaac was born, he +reminded me. Did Isom get him?" + +"No," was the word that Uncle John's fingers found. He shook his head, +sadly. + +"He worked and saved for him all his life," the old man wrote. "He set +his hope of that son above the Lord." + +Uncle John was given to understand the importance of his information, +and that he might be called upon to give it over again in court. + +He was greatly pleased with the prospect of publicly displaying his new +accomplishment. The lawyer gave him a printed good-bye, shook him by the +hand warmly, and left him poring over his ponderous book, his dumb lips +moving as his fingers spelled out the words. + +They were near the end and the quieting of all this flurry that had +risen over the property of old Isom Chase, said the lawyer to himself as +he rode back to town to acquaint his client with her good fortune. There +was nothing in the way of her succession to the property now. The +probate court would, without question or doubt, throw out that +ridiculous document through which old Judge Little hoped to grease his +long wallet. + +With Isom's will would disappear from the public notice the one +testimony of his only tender sentiment, his only human softness; a +sentiment and a softness which had been born of a desire and fostered by +a dream. + +Strange that the hard old man should have held to that dream so +stubbornly and so long, striving to gain for it, hoarding to enrich it, +growing bitterer for its long coming, year by year. And at last he had +gone out in a flash, leaving this one speaking piece of evidence of +feeling and tenderness behind. + +Perhaps Isom Chase would have been different, reflected the lawyer, if +fate had yielded him his desire and given him a son; perhaps it would +have softened his hand and mellowed his heart in his dealings with those +whom he touched; perhaps it would have lifted him above the narrow +strivings which had atrophied his virtues, and let the sunlight into the +dark places of his soul. + +So communing with himself, he arrived in town. The people were coming +out of the court-house, the lowering gray clouds were settling mistily. +But it was a clearing day for his client; he hastened on to tell her of +the turn fortune had made in her behalf. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +"THE PENALTY IS DEATH!" + + +When court convened the following morning for the last act in the +prolonged drama of Joe Newbolt's trial, the room was crowded even beyond +the congestion of the previous day. + +People felt that Sam Lucas was not through with the accused lad yet; +they wanted to be present for the final and complete crucifixion. It was +generally believed that, under the strain of Lucas's bombardment, Joe +would break down that day. + +The interference of Alice Price, unwarranted and beyond reason, the +public said, had given the accused a respite, but nothing more. Whatever +mistaken notion she had in doing it was beyond them, for it was +inconceivable that she could be wiser than another, and discover virtues +in the accused that older and wiser heads had overlooked. Well, after +the rebuke that Judge Maxwell had given her, _she_ wouldn't meddle again +soon. It was more than anybody expected to see her in court again. No, +indeed, they said; that would just about settle _her_. + +Such a fine girl, too, and such a blow to her father. It was a piece of +forwardness that went beyond the imagination of anybody in the town. +Could it be that Alice Price had become tainted with socialism or +woman's rights, or any of those wild theories which roared around the +wide world outside Shelbyville and created such commotion and unrest? +Maybe some of those German doctrines had got into her head, such as that +young Professor Gobel, whom the regents discharged from the college +faculty last winter, used to teach. + +It was too bad; nearly everybody regretted it, for it took a girl a long +time to live down a thing like that in Shelbyville. But the greatest +shock and disappointment of all was, although nobody would admit it, +that she had shut Joe's mouth on the very thing that the public ear was +itching to hear. She had cheated the public of its due, and taken the +food out of its mouth when it was ravenous. That was past forgiveness. + +Dark conjectures were hatched, therefore, and scandalous hints were set +traveling. Mothers said, well, they thanked their stars that she hadn't +married _their_ sons; and fathers philosophized that you never could +tell how a filly would turn out till you put the saddle on her and tried +her on the road. And the public sighed and gasped and shook its head, +and was comfortably shocked and satisfyingly scandalized. + +The sheriff brought the prisoner into court that morning with free +hands. Joe's face seemed almost beatific in its exalted serenity as he +saluted his waiting mother with a smile. To those who had seen the gray +pallor of his strained face yesterday, it appeared as if he had cast his +skin during the night, and with it his harassments and haunting fears, +and had come out this morning as fresh and unscarred as a child. + +Joe stood for a moment running his eyes swiftly over the room. When they +found the face they sought a warm light shot into them as if he had +turned up the wick of his soul. She was not so near the front as on the +day before, yet she was close enough for eye to speak to eye. + +People marked the exchange of unspoken salutations between them, and +nudged each other, and whispered: "There she is!" They wondered how she +was going to cut up today, and whether it would not end for her by +getting herself sent to jail, along with that scatter-feathered young +crow whom she seemed to have taken into her heart. + +Ollie was present, although Joe had not expected to see her, he knew not +why. She was sitting in the first row of benches, so near him he could +have reached over and taken her hand. He bowed to her; she gave him a +sickly smile, which looked on her pale face like a dim breaking of sun +through wintry clouds. + +To the great surprise and greater disappointment of the public in +attendance upon the trial, Sam Lucas announced, when court opened, that +the state would not proceed with the cross-examination of the defendant. +Hammer rose with that and stated that the defense rested. He had no more +witnesses to call. + +Hammer wore a hopeful look over his features that morning, a reflection, +perhaps, of his client's unworried attitude. He had not been successful +in his attempt to interview Alice Price, although he had visited her +home the night before. Colonel Price had received him with the air of +one who stoops to contact with an inferior, and assured him that he was +delegated by Miss Price--which was true--to tell Mr. Hammer that she +knew nothing favorable to his client's cause; that her caution in his +moment of stress had nothing behind it but the unaccountable impulse of +a young and sympathetic girl. + +Hammer accepted that explanation with a large corner of reservation in +his mind. He knew that she had visited the jail, and it was his opinion +that his client had taken her behind the door of his confidence, which +he had closed to his attorney. Alice Price knew something, she must know +something, Hammer said. On that belief he based his intention of a +motion for a new trial in case of conviction. He would advance the +contention that new evidence had been discovered; he would then get +Alice Price into a corner by herself somewhere and make her tell all she +knew. + +That was why Hammer smiled and felt quite easy, and turned over in his +mind the moving speech that he had prepared for the jury. He was glad of +the opportunity which that great gathering presented. It was a plowed +field waiting the grain of Hammer's future prosperity. + +Hammer kept turning his eyes toward Alice Price, where she sat in the +middle of the court-room beside the colonel. He had marked an air of +uneasiness, a paleness as of suppressed anxiety in the girl's face. Now +and then he saw her look toward the door where Captain Taylor stood +guard, in his G. A. R. uniform today, as if it were a gala occasion and +demanded decorations. + +For whom could she be straining and watching? Hammer wondered. Ah, no +doubt about it, that girl knew a great deal more of the inner-working of +his client's mind than he did. But she couldn't keep her secret. He'd +get it out of her after filing his motion for a new trial--already he +was looking ahead to conviction, feeling the weakness of his case--and +very likely turn the sensation of a generation loose in Shelbyville when +he called her to the witness-stand. That was the manner of Hammer's +speculations as he watched her turning her eyes toward the door. + +Ollie sat beside her mother, strangely downcast for all the brightening +of her affairs. Joe had passed through the fire and come out true, +although he might have faltered and betrayed her if it had not been for +the sharp warning of Alice Price, cast to him like a rope to a drowning +man. Like Hammer, like a thousand others, she wondered why Alice had +uttered that warning. What did she know? What did she suspect? It was +certain, above everything else, that she knew Joe was guiltless. She +knew that he was not maintaining silence on his own account. + +How did she know? Had Joe told her? Ollie struggled with the doubt and +perplexity of it, and the fear which lay deep in her being made her long +to cringe there, and shield her face as from fire. She could not do +that, any more than she had succeeded in her desire to remain away from +court that morning. There was no need for her there, her testimony was +in, they were through with her. Yet she could not stay away. She must be +there for the final word, for the last sight of Joe's prison-white +face. + +She must whip herself to sit there as boldly as innocence and cheat the +public into accepting the blanched cheek of fear for the wearing strain +of sorrow; she must sit there until the end. Then she could rise up and +go her way, no matter how it turned out for Joe. She could leave there +with her guilty secret in her heart and the shame of her cowardice +burning like a smothered coal in her breast. + +It would hurt to know that Joe had gone to prison for her sake, even +though he once had stepped into the doorway of her freedom and cut off +her light. The knowledge that Alice Price loved him, and that Joe loved +her, for she had read the secret in their burning eyes, would make it +doubly hard. She would be cheating him of liberty and robbing him of +love. Still, they would be no more than even, at that, said she, with a +recurring sweep of bitterness. Had Joe not denied them both to her? All +of this she turned in her mind as she sat waiting for court to open that +somber morning. + +The rain in yesterday's threat had come; it was streaking the windows +gray, and the sound of the wind was in the trees, waving their bare +limbs as in fantastic grief against the dull clouds. There was no +comfort in youth and health and prettiness of face and form; no pride in +possession of lands and money, when a hot and tortuous thing like +conscience was lying so ill-concealed behind the thin wall of her +breast. + +She thought bitterly of Curtis Morgan, who had failed her so completely. +Never again in the march of her years would she need the support of his +hand and comforting affection as she needed it then. But he had gone +away and forgotten, like a careless hunter who leaves his uncovered fire +after him to spring in the wind and go raging with destructive curse +through the forest. He had struck the spark to warm himself a night in +its pleasurable glow; the hands of ten thousand men could not quench its +flame today. + +Judge Maxwell had been conferring with the lawyers in the case these few +minutes, setting a limit to their periods of oration before the jury, to +which both sides agreed after the usual protestations. The court-room +was very quiet; expectancy sat upon the faces of all who waited when Sam +Lucas, prosecuting attorney, rose and began his address to the jury. + +He began by calling attention to what he termed the "peculiar atrocity +of this crime," and the circumstances surrounding it. He pointed out +that there could have been no motive of revenge behind the act, for the +evidence had shown, even the testimony of the defendant himself had +shown, that the relations between Chase and his bondman were friendly. +Isom Chase had been kind to him; he had reposed his entire trust in him, +and had gone away to serve his country as a juryman, leaving everything +in his hands. + +"And he returned from that duty, gentlemen," said he, "to meet death at +the treacherous hands of the man whom he had trusted, there upon his own +threshold. + +"When Isom Chase was found there by his neighbor, Sol Greening, +gentlemen, this bag of money was clasped to his lifeless breast. Where +did it come from? What was Isom Chase doing with it there at that hour +of the night? This defendant has testified that he does not know. Did +Isom Chase carry it with him when he entered the house? Not likely. + +"You have heard the testimony of the bankers of this city to the effect +that he carried no deposit with any of them. Isom Chase had returned to +his home that fatal night from serving on a jury in this court-house. +That duty held him there until past ten o'clock, as the records show. +Where did that bag of gold come from? What was it doing there? This +defendant has sworn that he never saw it before, that he knows nothing +at all about it. Yet he admits that 'words' passed between him and Isom +Chase that night. + +"What those words were he has locked up in the secret darkness of his +guilty breast. He has refused to tell you what they were, refused +against the kindly counsel of the court, the prayers of his aged mother, +the advice of his own attorney, and of his best friends. Joe Newbolt has +refused to repeat those words to you, gentlemen of the jury, but I will +tell you what the substance of them was." + +The prosecutor made a dramatic pause; he flung his long, fair locks back +from his forehead; he leveled his finger at Joe as if he held a weapon +aimed to shoot him through the heart. + +Mrs. Newbolt looked at the prosecutor searchingly. She could not +understand why the judge allowed him to say a thing like that. Joe +displayed no indication of the turmoil of his heart. But the light was +fading out of his face, the gray mist of pain was sweeping over it +again. + +"Those words, gentlemen of the jury," resumed the prosecutor, "were +words of accusation from the lips of Isom Chase when he entered that +door and saw this man, his trusted servant, making away with that bag of +money, the hoarded savings of Isom Chase through many an industrious +year. + +"I tell you, gentlemen of the jury, that this defendant, afraid of the +consequences of his act when he found himself discovered in the theft, +and was compelled to surrender the money to its lawful owner--I tell you +then, in that evil moment of passion and disappointment, this defendant +snatched that rifle from the wall and shot honest, hardworking old Isom +Chase down like a dog!" + +"No, no!" cried Mrs. Newbolt, casting out her hands in passionate +denial. "Joe didn't do it!" + +"Your honor," began the prosecutor, turning to the court with an +expression of injury in his voice which was almost tearful, "am I to be +interrupted----" + +"Madam, you must not speak again," admonished the judge. "Mr. Sheriff, +see that the order is obeyed." + +The sheriff leaned over. + +"Ma'am, I'll have to put you out of here if you do that agin," said he. + +Joe placed his hand on his mother's shoulder and whispered to her. She +nodded, as if in obedience to his wish, but she sat straight and alert, +her dark eyes glowing with anger as she looked at the prosecutor. + +The prosecutor was composing himself to proceed. + +"This defendant had robbed old Isom Chase of his hoarded gold, gentlemen +of the jury, and that was not all. I tell you, gentlemen, Joe Newbolt +had robbed that trusting old man of more than his gold. He had robbed +him of his sacred honor!" + +Hammer entered vociferous objections. Nothing to maintain this charge +had been proved by the state, said he. He insisted that the jury be +instructed to disregard what had been said, and the prosecutor +admonished by the court to confine himself to the evidence. + +The court ruled accordingly. + +"There has been ample evidence on this point," contended the prosecutor. +"The conspiracy of silence entered into between this defendant and the +widow of Isom Chase--entered into and maintained throughout this +trial--is sufficient to brand them guilty of this charge before the +world. More; when Sol Greening's wife arrived a few minutes after the +shooting, Mrs. Chase was fully dressed, in a dress, gentlemen of the +jury, that it would have taken her longer to put on----" + +Merely surmises, said Hammer. If surmises were to be admitted before +that court and that jury, said he, he could surmise his client out of +there in two minutes. But the court was of the opinion that the evidence +warranted the prosecutor there. He was allowed to proceed. + +"Ollie Chase could not have dressed herself that way in those few +intervening minutes. She had made her preparations long before that +tragic hour; she was ready and waiting--waiting for what? + +"Gentlemen, I will tell you. Joe Newbolt had discovered the hiding-place +of his employer's money. He had stolen it, and was preparing to depart +in secrecy in the dead of night; and I tell you, gentlemen of the jury, +he was not going alone!" + +"Oh, what a scandalous lie!" said Mrs. Newbolt in a horrified voice +which, low-pitched and groaning that it was carried to the farthest +corner of that big, solemn room. + +The outburst caused a little movement in the room, attended by +considerable noise and some shifting of feet. Some laughed, for there +are some to laugh everywhere at the most sincere emotions of the human +breast. The judge rapped for order. A flush of anger mounted to his +usually passive face; he turned to the sheriff with a gesture of +command. + +"Remove that woman from the room, Mr. Sheriff, and retain her in +custody!" said he. + +The sheriff came forward hastily and took Mrs. Newbolt by the arm. She +stood at his touch and stretched out her hands to the judge. + +"I didn't mean to say it out loud, Judge Maxwell, but I thought it so +hard, I reckon, sir, that it got away. Anybody that knows my Joe----" + +"Come on, ma'am," the sheriff ordered. + +Joe was on his feet. The sheriff's special deputy put his hands on the +prisoner's shoulders and tried to force him down into his seat. The +deputy was a little man, sandy, freckled, and frail, and his efforts, +ludicrously eager, threw the court-room into a fit of unseemly laughter. +The little man might as well have attempted to bend one of the oak +columns which supported the court-house portico. + +Judge Maxwell was properly angry now. He rapped loudly, and threatened +penalties for contempt. When the mirth quieted, which it did with a +suddenness almost tragic, Joe spoke. "I wish to apologize to you for +mother's words, sir," said he, addressing the judge, inclining his head +slightly to the prosecuting attorney afterward, as if to include him, +upon second thought. "She was moved out of her calm and dignity by the +statement of Mr. Lucas, sir, and I give you my word of honor that she'll +say no more. I'd like to have her here by me, sir, if you'd grant me +that favor. You can understand, sir, that a man needs a friend at his +side in an hour like this." + +Judge Maxwell's face was losing its redness of wrath; the hard lines +were melting out of it. He pondered a moment, looking with gathered +brows at Joe. The little deputy had given over his struggle, and now +stood with one hand twisted in the back of Joe's coat. The sheriff kept +his hold on Mrs. Newbolt's arm. She lifted her contrite face to the +judge, tears in her eyes. + +"Very well," said the judge, "the court will accept your apology, and +hold you responsible for her future behavior. Madam, resume your seat, +and do not interrupt the prosecuting attorney again." + +Mrs. Newbolt justified Joe's plea by sitting quietly while the +prosecutor continued. But her interruption had acted like an explosion +in the train of his ideas; he was so much disconcerted by it that he +finished rather tamely, reserving his force, as people understood, for +his closing speech. + +Hammer rose in consequence, and plunged into the effort of his life. He +painted the character of Isom Chase in horrible guise; he pointed out +his narrowness, his wickedness, his cruelty, his quickness to lift his +hand. He wept and he sobbed, and splashed tears all around him. + +It was one of the most satisfying pieces of public oratory ever heard in +Shelbyville, from the standpoint of sentiment, and the view of the +unschooled. But as a legal and logical argument it was as foolish and +futile as Hammer's own fat tears. He kept it up for an hour, and he +might have gone on for another if his tears had not given out. Without +tears, Hammer's eloquence dwindled and his oratory dried. + +Mrs. Newbolt blessed him in her heart, and the irresponsible and +vacillating public wiped its cheeks clean of its tears and settled down +to have its emotions warped the other way. Everybody said that Hammer +had done well. He had made a fine effort, it showed what they had +contended for all along, that Hammer had it naturally in him, and was +bound to land in congress yet. + +When the prosecutor resumed for the last word he seemed to be in a +vicious temper. He seemed to be prompted by motives of revenge, rather +than justice. If he had been a near relative of the deceased, under the +obligation of exacting life for life with his own hands, he could not +have shown more vindictive personal resentment against the accused. He +reverted to Joe's reservation in his testimony. + +"There is no question in my mind, gentlemen of the jury," said he, "that +the silence behind which this defendant hides is the silence of guilt, +and that silence brands him blacker than any confession that his tongue +could make. + +"'Words passed between us,' and 'it was between him and me.' That, +gentlemen of the jury, is the explanation this defendant gives, the +only, the weak, the obviously dishonest explanation, that he ever has +offered, or that the kindly admonishment of this court could draw from +his lips. Guilt sits on his face; every line of his base countenance is +a confession; every brutal snarl from his reluctant tongue is testimony +of his evil heart. He was a thief, and, when he was caught, he murdered. +'Out of his own mouth he has uttered his condemnation,' and there is but +one penalty fitting this hideous crime--the penalty of death! + +"Never before has the fair name of our county been stained by such an +atrocious crime; never before has there been such a conspiracy between +the guilty to defeat the ends of justice in this moral and respected +community. I call upon you, gentlemen of the jury, for the safety of our +households and the sanctity of our hearths, to bring in your verdict of +guilty under the indictment. + +"It is a solemn and awful thing to stand here in the presence of the +Almighty and ask the life of one of his creatures, made by Him in His +own image and endowed by Him with reason and superiority above all else +that moves on the earth or in the waters under it. But this man, Joe +Newbolt, has debased that image and abused that reason and superiority +which raises him above the beasts of the field. He has murdered a +defenseless old man; he has, by that act and deed, forfeited his right +to life and liberty under the law." + +The prosecutor made one of his effective pauses. There was the stillness +of midnight in the crowded court-room. The sound of dashing rain was +loud on the window-panes, the hoarse voice of the gray old elm which +combed the wind with its high-flung branches, was like the distant groan +of the sea. + +In that aching silence Ollie Chase turned suddenly, as if she had heard +someone call her name. She started, her white face grew whiter. But +nobody seemed conscious of her presence, except the prosecutor, who +wheeled upon her and leveled his accusing finger at her where she sat. + +There was the bearing of sudden and reckless impulse in his act. He +surely had not meditated that bold challenge of one who had passed under +his merciless hand, and was now, according to all accepted procedure, +beyond his reach and his concern. But Sam Lucas did that unusual thing. +He stood pointing at her, his jaw trembling as if the intensity of his +passion had palsied his tongue. + +"Gentlemen of the jury, what part this woman played in that dark night's +work the world may never know," said he. "But the world is not blind, +and its judgments are usually justified by time. This woman, Ollie +Chase, and this defendant have conspired to hold silence between them, +in what hope, to what unholy end, God alone knows. But who will believe +the weak and improbable story this woman has told on the witness-stand? +Who is so blind that he cannot see the stain of her infidelity and the +ghastly blight of that midnight shadow upon her quaking soul?" + +He turned from her abruptly. Hammer partly rose, as if to enter an +objection. He seemed to reconsider it, and sat down. Ollie shrank +against her mother's shoulders, trembling. The older woman, fierce as a +dragon in the sudden focus of the crowd's attention and eyes, fixed in +one shifting sweep from the prosecuting attorney to her daughter, put +her arm about Ollie and comforted her with whispered words. + +The prosecutor proceeded, solemnly: + +"I tell you, gentlemen, that these two people, Ollie Chase and Joseph +Newbolt, alone in that house that night, alone in that house for two +days before this tragedy darkened it, before the blood of gray old Isom +Chase ran down upon its threshold, these two conspired in their guilt to +hide the truth. + +"If this woman would open her lips, if this woman would break the seal +of this guilty compact and speak, the mystery of this case would +dissolve, and the heroic romance which this defendant is trying to put +over the squalid facts of his guilt would turn out only a sordid story +of midnight lust and robbery. If conscience would trouble this woman to +speak, gentlemen of the jury--but she has no conscience, and she has no +heart!" + +He turned again to Ollie, savagely; her mother covered her with her arm, +as if to protect her from a blow. + +"There she cowers in her guilty silence, in what hope God alone knows, +but if she would speak----" + +"_I will speak!_" Ollie cried. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +OLLIE SPEAKS + + +Ollie's voice, low and steady in earnest determination, broke the +current of his denunciation as a knife severs a straining cord. The +suddenness of her declaration almost made the prosecutor reel. She was +sitting up, straight and outwardly calm, pushing her cloak and other +detached belongings away from her with an unconscious movement of +disencumbering herself for some desperate leap. + +"I'll tell everything--if you'll let me--now," said she, rising to her +feet. + +She was white and cold, but steady, and sternly resolute. The prosecutor +had not expected that; his challenge had been only a spectacular play +for effect. Her offer to speak left him mentally groping behind himself +for a support. It would have been different if he had been certain of +what she desired to say. As she stood before him there, bloodless, and +in such calm of outward aspect that it was almost hysterical, he did not +know whether she was friend or foe. + +Joe had not expected it; the hundreds of spectators had not looked for +that, and Hammer was as much surprised as a ponderous, barber-minded man +could be. Yet he was the first, of all of them there, to get his wits in +hand. The prosecutor had challenged her, and, he argued, what she had to +say must be in justification of both herself and Joe. He stood up +quickly, and demanded that Ollie Chase be put under oath and brought to +the witness-stand. + +Ollie's mother had hold of her hand, looking up into her face in great +consternation, begging her to sit down and keep still. In general, +people were standing, and Uncle Posen Spratt was worming the big end of +his steer-horn trumpet between shoulders of men and headgear of women to +hear what he could not see. + +Judge Maxwell commanded order. The prosecuting attorney began to protest +against the fulfilment of the very thing that, with so much feeling and +earnestness, he had demanded but a minute before. + +"Considering this late hour in the proceedings, your honor----" he +began. + +Judge Maxwell silenced him with a stern and reproving look. + +"It is never too late for justice, Mr. Prosecutor," said he. "Let that +woman come forward and be sworn." + +Hammer went eagerly to the assistance of Ollie, opening the little gate +in the railing for her officiously, putting his palm under her elbow in +his sustaining fashion. The clerk administered the oath; Ollie dropped +her hand wearily at her side. + +"I lied the other day," said she, as one surrendering at the end of a +hopeless defense, "and I'm tired of hiding the truth any more." + +Joe Newbolt was moved by a strange feeling of mingled thankfulness and +regret. Tears had started to his eyes, and were coursing down his face, +unheeded and unchecked. The torture of the past days and weeks, the +challenge of his honor, the doubt of his sincerity; the rough assaults +of the prosecuting attorney, the palpable unfriendliness of the +people--none of these things ever had drawn from him a tear. But this +simple act of justice on the part of Ollie Chase moved the deep waters +of his soul. + +His mother had taken his hand between her rough palms, and was chafing +it, as if to call back its warmth and life. She was not looking at her +son, for her faith had not departed from him for one moment, and would +not have diminished if they had condemned him under the accusation. Her +eyes were on Ollie's face, her lips were murmuring beneath her breath: + +"Thank the Lord for His justice and mercy! Thank the Lord, thank the +Lord!" + +Ollie had settled in the witness-chair again, in the midst of her +wide-skirted mourning habit, as on that other day. Joe Newbolt prayed in +his heart for the mitigation of public censure, and for strength to +sustain her in her hour of sacrifice. + +That Ollie had come forward to save him--unasked, unexpected--was like +the comfort of a cloak against the wintry wind. The public believed that +she was going to "own up" to it now, and to clinch the case against Joe. +Some of them began to make mental calculations on the capacity of the +jail yard, and to lay plans for securing passes to the hanging. + +Hammer stepped forward to question the witness, and the prosecuting +attorney sat down, alert and ready to interpose in case things should +start the wrong way. He had lost sight of justice completely, after the +fixed habit of his kind, in his eagerness to advance his own prospects +by securing the conviction of the accused. + +Ollie sat facing Judge Maxwell, who had turned in his swivel-chair; +moved out of his bearing of studious concentration, which was his usual +characteristic on the bench. + +"Now, Mrs. Chase, tell your story in your own way, and take your own +time for it," said Hammer, kindly patronizing. + +"I don't want Joe to suffer for me," she said, letting her sad eyes rest +on him for a moment. "What he kept back wasn't for his own sake. It was +for mine." + +"Yes; go on, Mrs. Chase," said Hammer as she hesitated there. + +"Joe didn't shoot Isom. That happened just the way he's said. I know all +about it, for I was there. Joe didn't know anything about that money. +I'll tell you about that, too." + +"Now, your honor," began the prosecutor complainingly, "it seems to me +that the time and place for evidence of this nature has gone by. This +witness has testified already, and to an entirely different set of +facts. I don't know what influences have been at work to induce her to +frame up a new story, but----" + +"Your zeal is commendable, Mr. Prosecutor," said the judge, "but it must +not be allowed to obscure the human rights at hazard in this case. Let +the witness proceed." + +Ollie shuddered like one entering cold water as she let her eyes take a +flight out over the crowd. Perhaps she saw something in it that appalled +her, or perhaps she realized only then that she was about to expose the +nakedness of her soul before the world. + +"Go ahead, Mrs. Chase," prompted Hammer. "You say you know about that +sack of money?" + +"I was taking it away with me," said she, drawing a long breath and +expelling it with an audible sigh. + +She seemed very tired, and she looked most hopeless, pitiable, and +forlorn; still there was no wavering from the task that she had set for +herself, no shrinking from its pain. "I was going to meet Curtis Morgan, +the book-agent man that you've asked me about before. We intended to run +off to the city together. Joe knew about it; he stopped me that night." + +She paused again, picking at her fingers nervously. + +"You say that Joe stopped you--" Hammer began. She cut him off, taking +up her suspended narrative without spirit, as one resumes a burden. + +"Yes, but let me tell you first." She looked frankly into Judge +Maxwell's eyes. + +"Address the jury, Mrs. Chase," admonished Hammer. She turned and looked +steadily into the foreman's bearded face. + +"There never was a thing out of the way between me and Joe. Joe never +made love to me; he never kissed me, he never seemed to want to. When +Curtis Morgan came to board with us I was about ready to die, I was so +tired and lonesome and starved for a kind word. + +"Isom was a hard man--harder than anybody knows that never worked for +him. He worked me like I was only a plow or a hoe, without any feeling +or any heart. Morgan and me--Mr. Morgan, he--well, we fell in love. We +didn't act right, and Joe found it out. That was the day that Mr. Morgan +and I planned to run away together. He was coming back for me that +night." + +"You say that you and Morgan didn't act right," said Hammer, not +satisfied with a statement that might leave the jurymen the labor of +conjecture. "Do you mean to say that there were improper relations +between you? that you were, in a word, unfaithful to your husband, Isom +Chase?" + +Ollie's pale face grew scarlet; she hung her head. + +"Yes," she answered, in voice shamed and low. + +Her mother, shocked and astounded by this public revelation, sat as if +crouching in the place where Ollie had left her. Judge Maxwell nodded +encouragingly to the woman who was making her open confession. + +"Go on," said he. + +His eyes shifted from her to Joe Newbolt, who was looking at Ollie with +every evidence of acute suffering and sympathy in his face. The judge +studied him intently; Joe, his attention centered on Ollie, was +insensible to the scrutiny. + +Ollie told how she and Morgan had made their plans in the orchard that +afternoon, and how she had gone to the house and prepared to carry out +the compact that night, not knowing that Joe had overheard them and sent +Morgan away. She had a most attentive and appreciative audience. She +spoke in a low voice, her face turned toward the jury, according to +Hammer's directions. He could not afford to have them lose one word of +that belated evidence. + +"I knew where Isom hid his money," said she, "and that night when I +thought Joe was asleep I took up the loose board in the closet of the +room where Isom and I slept and took out that little sack. There was +another one like it, but I only took my share. I'd worked for it, and +starved and suffered, and it was mine. I didn't consider that I was +robbing him." + +"You were not," Hammer assured her. "A wife cannot rob her husband, Mrs. +Chase. And then what did you do?" + +"I went downstairs with that money in my hand and laid it on the kitchen +table while I fixed my hat. It was dark in the kitchen, and when I was +ready to go to meet Mr. Morgan in the place agreed on between us, I +struck a match to find my way to the door without bumpin' into a chair +or something and making a noise that would wake up Joe. + +"I didn't know he was already up and watching for me to start. He was at +the door when I opened it, and he told me to light the lamp. I wouldn't +do it. I didn't want him to see me all dressed and ready to leave, and I +wanted to try to slip that sack of money off the table before he saw it, +too. He came in; I guess he put his hat down on the table in the dark, +and it fell on top of the sack. + +"When he lit the lamp in a minute you couldn't have told there was +anything under the hat unless you stood in a certain place, where it +showed a little under the brim. Joe told me he knew all about Morgan and +me, and that he'd sent him away. He said it was wrong for me to leave +Isom; he said that Isom was better than Morgan, bad as he was. + +"I flared up and got mad at Joe, but he was gentle and kind, and talked +to me and showed me where I was wrong. I'd kind of tried to make love to +Joe a little before that," she confessed, her face flushing hotly again, +"before Mr. Morgan came, that was. I'll tell you this so you'll know +that there was nothing out of the way between me and Joe. + +"Joe didn't seem to understand such things. He was nothing but a boy +till the night Isom was killed. He didn't take me up on it like Morgan +did. I know it was wrong in me; but Isom drove me to it, and I've +suffered for it--more than I can ever make you understand." + +She appealed to the judge in her manner of saying that; appealed as for +the absolution which she had earned by a cruel penance. He nodded +kindly, his face very grave. + +"Yes, Mrs. Chase," said Hammer. "And then what did you do next?" + +"Well, while Joe was persuading me to go back to bed I put my arms +around his neck. I wanted to smooth it over with him, so he'd go to bed +first and I could take the money and put it back, for one thing; and +because I really was sorry for what I'd done, and was ashamed of it, and +felt lonesome and kicked out, and like nobody didn't care. + +"Isom came in and saw us standing there that way, with my hands on Joe's +shoulders, and he rushed up and said: 'I'll kill you!' He said we was +standing there hugging each other, and that we'd disgraced him; but that +wasn't so. It was all my fault, but Joe didn't tell him that." + +"And what did Joe tell him, Mrs. Chase?" asked Hammer, aglow with the +victory which he felt to be already in his hand. He looked with gloating +triumph at the prosecuting attorney, who sat at the table twirling a +pencil in his fingers, and did not lift his eyes. + +"Joe told Isom he was making a mistake, and then Isom ripped and swore +and threatened to kill us both. He looked around for something to do it +with, and he saw that sack of money under Joe's hat. He jumped for the +table and grabbed it, and then he made for the gun. I told Joe to stop +him, and Joe tried. But he was too late. The rest of it happened just +like Joe's already told you." + +Ollie's head drooped forward wearily, and her hands lay passively in her +lap. It seemed that she considered the story concluded, but Hammer was +not of that mind. + +"After Isom fell--after the gun went off and Isom fell--what did you and +Joe do?" he asked. + +"We heard somebody coming in a minute. We didn't know who it could be, +but I was afraid. I knew if it got out on me about my start to run off +with Morgan, and all the rest of it, I'd be ruined and disgraced +forever. + +"Joe knew it too, better than I did. I didn't have to tell him, and I +never even hinted for him to do what he did. I never even thought of +that. I asked him what we'd do, and he told me to go upstairs and leave +him to do the talking. I went. I was coward enough to go and leave him +to bear the blame. When Joe lied at the inquest to save me, I backed him +up in it, and I stuck to it up till now. Maybe I was a little mad at him +for coming between me and Mr. Morgan, but that was just a streak. That's +the only lie Joe's told, and you can see he never would have told that +to save himself. I don't want to see him suffer any more for me." + +Ollie concluded her recital in the same low, dragging and spiritless +voice in which she had begun it. Conscience whipped her through, but +it could not make her unafraid. Hammer turned to the prosecutor +with questioning eyes. Lucas announced that he did not desire to +cross-examine the witness, and the judge dismissed her. + +Ollie went back to her mother. No demonstration accompanied her passing, +but a great sigh sounded over the room as the tenseness of the listening +strain relaxed, and the fulness of satisfaction came in its place. + +Mrs. Newbolt still clung to her son's hand. She nodded at the +prosecuting attorney with glowing eyes, as if glorying over him in the +moment of his defeat. Alice Price smiled joyously, and leaned back from +her posture of concentration. The colonel whispered to her, bringing the +palms of his hands together in silent but expressive applause. The +prosecuting attorney stood. + +"Your honor--" he began, but Judge Maxwell, lifting his head from the +reflecting pose into which he had fallen when Ollie left the stand, +silenced him with an impatient gesture. + +"One moment, Mr. Prosecutor," said he. + +The prosecutor flushed, and sat down in ruffled dignity. + +"I merely wanted to make a motion for dismissal," said he, sarcastically, +as if it was only the merest incidental in the day's proceedings. + +"That is not the procedure," said the judge. "The state owes it to this +defendant to absolve him before the public of the obloquy of this +unfounded and cruel accusation." + +"Vindication is what we demand, your honor," said Hammer grandly; +"vindication before the world!" + +He spread his arms wide, as if the world stood before him, fat and big +of girth like himself, and he meant to embrace it with the next breath. + +"You shall have it, Mr. Hammer," said the judge. He turned to the jury. +"Gentlemen of the jury, this case has come to a sudden and unexpected +end. The state's case, prosecuted with such worthy energy and honorable +intention, has collapsed. Your one duty now, gentlemen, is to return a +verdict of not guilty. Will it be necessary for you to retire to the +jury room?" + +The jurymen had been exchanging glances. Now the foreman rose, tall and +solemn, with beard upon his breast. + +"Your honor, it will not be necessary for the jury to retire," said he. +"We are ready to return our verdict." + +According to the form, the foreman wrote out the verdict on the blank +provided by statute; he stood with his fellows while the clerk of the +court read it aloud: + +"We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty." + +The judge looked down at Joe, who had turned to his mother, smiling +through his tears. + +"You are free, God bless you!" said he. + +When a judge says so much more upon the bench than precedent, form, and +custom prescribe for him to say; when he puts down the hard mask of the +law and discovers his human face behind it, and his human heart moving +his warm, human blood; when a judge on the bench does that, what can be +expected of the unsanctified mob in front of him? + +It was said by many that Captain Taylor led the applause himself, but +there were others who claimed that distinction for Colonel Price. No +matter. + +While the house did not rise as one man--for in every house there are +old joints and young ones, which do not unlimber with the same degree of +alacrity, no matter what the incitement--it got to its feet in +surprising order, with a great tossing of arms and waving of hats and +coats. In the midst of this glad turmoil stood Uncle Posen Spratt, head +and shoulders above the crowd, mounted on a bench, his steer's horn +ear-trumpet to his whiskered lips, like an Israelitish priest, blowing +his famous fox-hound blast, which had been heard five miles on a still +autumn night. + +Less than half an hour before, the public would have attended Joe +Newbolt's hanging with all the pleasurable and satisfactory thrills +which men draw from such melancholy events. Now it was clamoring to lift +him to its shoulders and bear him in triumph through the town. + +Judge Maxwell smiled, and adjourned court, which order nobody but his +clerk heard, and let them have their noisy way. When the people saw him +come down from the bench they quieted, not understanding his purpose; +and when he reached out his hand to Joe, who rose to meet him, silence +settled over the house. Judge Maxwell put his arm around Joe's shoulder +in fatherly way while he shook hands with Mrs. Newbolt. What he said, +nobody but those within the bar heard, but he gave Joe's back an +expressive slap of approval as he turned to the prosecuting attorney. + +People rushed forward with the suddenness of water released, to shake +hands with Joe when they understood that the court was in adjournment. +They crowded inside the rail, almost overwhelming him, exclaiming in +loud terms of admiration, addressing him familiarly, to his excessive +embarrassment, pressing upon him their assurances that they knew, all +the time, that he didn't do it, and that he would come out of it with +head and tail both up, as he had come through. + +Men who would have passed him yesterday without a second thought, and +who would no more have given their hands to him on the footing of +equality--unless they had chanced to be running for office--than they +would have thrust them into the fire, now stood there smiling and +jostling and waiting their turns to reach him, all of them chattering +and mouthing and nodding heads until one would have thought that each of +them was a prophet, and had predicted this very thing. + +The old generals, colonels, majors, and captains--that was the lowest +rank in Shelbyville--and the noncommissioned substantial first citizens +of the county, were shaking hands among themselves, and nodding and +smiling, full of the fine feeling of that moment. It was a triumph of +chivalry, they said; they had witnessed the renaissance of the old +spirit, the passing of which, and the dying out and dwindling of it in +the rising generation, they had so long and lamentably deplored. + +There, before their eyes, they had seen this uncouth grub transformed +into a glorious and noble thing, and the only discord in the miraculous +harmony of it was the deep-lying regret that it was not a son of +Shelbyville who had thus proved himself a man. And then the colonels and +others broke off their self-felicitation to join the forward mob in the +front of the room, and press their congratulations upon Joe. + +Joe, embarrassed and awkward, tried to be genial, but hardly succeeded +in being civil, for his heart was not with them in what he felt to be +nothing but a cheap emotion. He was looking over their heads, and +peering between their shoulders, watching the progress of a little red +feather in a Highland bonnet, which was making its way toward him +through the confusion like a bold pennant upon the crest of battle. Joe +pushed through the wedging mass of people around, and went to the bar to +meet her. + +In the time of his distress, these who now clamored around him with +professions of friendliness had not held up a hand to sustain him, nor +given him one good word to shore up his sinking soul. But there was one +who had known and understood; one whose faith had held him up to the +heights of honor, and his soul stood in his eyes to greet her as he +waited for her to come. He did not know what he would say when hand +touched hand, but he felt that he could fall down upon his knees as a +subject sinks before a queen. + +Behind him he heard his mother's voice, thanking the people who offered +their congratulations. It was a great day for her when the foremost +citizens of the county came forward, their hats in their hands, to pay +their respects to her Joe. She felt that he was rising up to his place +at last, and coming into his own. + +Joe heard his mother's voice, but it was sound to him now without words. +Alice was coming. She was now just a little way beyond the reach of his +arm, and her presence filled the world. + +The people had their quick eyes on Alice, also, and they fell apart to +let her pass, the flame of a new expectation in their keen faces. After +yesterday's strange act, which seemed so prophetic of today's climax in +the case, what was she going to do? Joe wondered in his heart with them; +he trembled in his eagerness to know. + +She was now at the last row of benches, not five feet distant from him, +where she stood a second, while she looked up into his face and smiled, +lifting her hand in a little expressive gesture. Then she turned aside +to the place where Ollie Chase sat, shame-stricken and stunned, beside +her mother. + +The women who had been sitting near Ollie had withdrawn from her, as if +she had become unclean with her confession. And now, as Alice +approached, Ollie's mother gave her a hard, resentful look, and put her +arm about her daughter as if to protect her from any physical +indignities which Alice might be bent on offering. + +Ollie shrank against her mother, her hair bright above her somber garb, +as if it was the one spot in her where any of the sunshine of her past +remained. Alice went to her with determined directness. She bent over +her, and took her by the hand. + +"Thank you! You're the bravest woman in the world!" she said. + +Ollie looked up, wonder and disbelief struggling against the pathetic +hopelessness in her eyes. Alice bent lower. She kissed the young widow's +pale forehead. + +Joe was ashamed that he had forgotten Ollie. He saw tears come into +Ollie's eyes as she clung closer to Alice's hand, and he heard the +shocked gasping of women, and the grunts of men, and the stirring murmur +of surprise which shook the crowd. He opened the little gate in the +railing and went out. + +"You didn't have to do that for me, Ollie," said he, kindly; "I could +have got on, somehow, without that." + +"Both of you--" said Ollie, a sob shaking her breath; "it was for both +of you!" + +There was a churchlike stillness around them. Colonel Price had +advanced, and now stood near the little group, a look of understanding +in his kind old face. Ollie mastered her sudden gust of weeping, and +shook her disordered hair back from her forehead, a defiant light in her +eyes. + +"I don't care now, I don't care what _anybody_ says!" said she. + +Her mother glanced around with the fire of battle in her eyes. In that +look she defied the public, and uttered her contempt for its valuation +and opinion. Alice Price had lifted her crushed and broken daughter up. +She had taken her by the hand, and she had kissed her, to show the world +that she did not hold her as one defiled. Judge Maxwell and all of them +had seen her do it. She had given Ollie absolution before all men. + +Ollie drew her cloak around her shoulders and rose to her feet. + +"Remember that; for both of you, for one as much as the other," said +she, looking into Alice's eyes. "Come on, Mother; we'll go home now." + +Ollie walked out of the court-room with her head up, looking the world +in the face. In place of the mark of the beast on her forehead, she was +carrying the cool benediction of a virtuous kiss. Joe and Alice stood +looking after her until she reached the door; even the most careless +there waited her exit as if it was part of some solemn ceremony. When +she had passed out of sight beyond the door, the crowd moved suddenly +and noisily after her. For the public, the show was over. + +Alice looked up into Joe's face. There was uncertainty in his eyes +still, for he was no wiser than those in their generations before him +who had failed to read a woman's heart. Alice saw that cloud hovering +before the sun of his felicity. She lifted her hands and gave them to +him, as one restoring to its owner something that cannot be denied. + +Face to face for a moment they stood thus, hands clasped in hands. For +them the world was empty of prying eyes, wondering minds, impertinent +faces. For a moment they were alone. + +The jurors had come out of the box, and were following the crowd. Hammer +was gathering up his books and papers, Judge Maxwell and the prosecuting +attorney were talking with Mrs. Newbolt. The sheriff was waiting near +the bar, as if he had some duty yet before him to discharge. A smile had +come over Colonel Price's face, where it spread like a benediction as +Joe and Alice turned to enter the world again. + +"I want to shake hands with you, Joe," said the sheriff, "and wish you +good luck. I always knowed you was as innercent as a child." + +Joe obliged him, and thanked him for his expression, but there +were things in the past which were not so easily wiped from the +memory--especially a chafed ring around his left wrist, where the +sheriff's iron had galled him when he had fretted against it during +the tense moments of those past days. + +Sam Lucas offered Joe his hand. + +"No hard feeling, Joe, I hope?" said he. + +"Well, not in particular--oh, well, you were only doing your duty, as +you saw it," said Joe. + +"You could have saved the county a lot of money, and yourself and your +friends a lot of trouble and anxiety, if you'd told us all about this +thing at the beginning," complained Lucas, with lingering severity. + +"As for that--" began Colonel Price. + +"You knew it, Miss Price," Lucas cut in. "Why didn't you make him +tell?" + +"No," said Alice, quietly, "I didn't know, Mr. Lucas. I only believed in +him. Besides that, there are some things that you can't _make_ a +gentleman tell!" + +"Just so," said Judge Maxwell, coming down from the bench with his books +under his arm. + +"Bless your heart, honey," said Mrs. Newbolt, touching Alice's hair with +gentle, almost reverent hand, "you knew him better than his old mother +did!" + +Colonel Price bowed ceremoniously to Mrs. Newbolt. + +"I want you and Joe to come home with us for some refreshment," said he, +"after which the boy and I must have a long, long talk. Mr. Hammer, +sir," said he, giving that astonished lawyer his hand, "I beg the honor +of shaking hands with a rising gentleman, sir!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +A SUMMONS OF THE NIGHT + + +There was a voice of moaning abroad in the night. It sounded as the rain +swept through the rocking trees and bent its spears against Judge +Maxwell's study windows; it sighed in his chimney like an old man +turning the ashes of spent dreams. It was an unkind night for one to be +abroad, for the rain seemed as penetrating as sorrow. Few passed upon +the street beneath the judge's windows where his dim light glowed. + +Now and then the sound of hoofs and wheels rose above the wail of the +storm, sharp for a moment as it passed, quickly dimmed, quickly lost. It +was a night to be beneath one's own roof, beside one's own fire, feeling +the thankfulness for such plain comforts which one passes over in the +sunny days. + +Judge Maxwell had a fire of hickory wood in his chimney, and a tall, +dark bottle on the small stand at his elbow. On the long table at his +other hand stood his shaded lamp, pouring its concentrated beams upon +his papers and books, leaving the corners of the room in shadows. The +judge sat with his glass in his hand, studying the fire. + +All day, since the adjournment of court, the remarkable termination of +and disclosures in the case of State against Newbolt had been flowing +through his mind; all day, all evening, the white, strong face of the +defendant youth had stood before his eyes. He could not turn from it, +nor forget the appeal of those grave, gray eyes. + +Never before, in his long and honorable life, had the judge been moved +by a case as this had moved him. There was nothing in all his rich +experience to equal it. In all his reading---- + +"_Hum-m-m_," said the judge, reflectively, remembering. He rose slowly +and went to the bookcase nearest the fire. He took down a leather-bound +volume and returned to his chair, where he sat with his legs crossed, +supporting the heavy book upon his knee. Reflectively he turned the +pages, reflectively he read, shaking his head when he had done. + +"No, it is not a parallel," said he. "The matter involved has only a +remote similitude. I do not believe the annals of jurisprudence contain +another case to compare with that of our own Joe Newbolt." + +The judge put the volume back in its place, pausing at the table as he +returned to his chair to turn down the flame of the lamp. It was too +bright for the judge's mood; it was inharmonious with the penitential +night. Almost like a voice, strident and in discord above the sobbing +music of an orchestra, thought the judge. The firelight was better for a +mood such as his. + +One can see farther back by the soft glow of wood coals, leaning over +and looking into them, than under the gleam of the strongest lamp. Judge +Maxwell had a long vista behind him to review, and it seemed to him that +night that it was a picture with more shadow than gleam. This day's +events had set him upon the train of retrospection, of moody thought. + +He had seen that boy, Joe Newbolt, leap out of the obscurity of his life +into the place of heroes, as he would have had his own son do, if he +could have kept him by his side and fashioned his life. But that boy was +gone; long years ago he had left him, and none had come after him to +stand in his place. His little, worn books, which he used to sprawl upon +the floor and read, were treasured there on their sacred shelf behind +the bookcase glass. The light had failed out of the eyes which had found +wonders in them, more than thirty years ago. + +The lad's mother had followed him; nobody remained to the judge now out +of those days of his struggle and slow-mounting hope, save old Hiram, +his negro man, a family servitor since the times of slavery, and he was +trembling on the limb to fall. + +Yes, that was the way that he would have had his own boy stand, true to +a trust, faithful in his honor, even under the beam of the gallows-tree; +stand as that lad Joe Newbolt had stood, unschooled though he was in +everything but that deep sense of duty devolving on one born free. Such +nobility was the peculiar birthright of the true American. + +Scarcely behind Joe Newbolt stood that hitherto weak woman, Ollie Chase. +It called for courage to do what she had done. She had only to keep her +peace, and hide whatever pity she felt and pain she suffered on account +of the lad who stood ready to sacrifice his life for her, to proceed +upon her way clean in the eyes of men. She must have endured the +tortures of hidden fires through those weeks of uncertainty and +suspense, thought he. + +Yes, Ollie Chase had her own nobility; the laurel was due her poor, +smirched brow, just as much as it was to Joe Newbolt's lofty forehead. +Contrition doubtless played its part in driving her to open confession, +and the pain of concealment must have been hard to bear. But there was +an underlying nobility in that woman's heart which had urged her on +stronger than all. It is a spark in the breast of even the most debased, +thought the judge, which abnegation and sacrifice often kindle into a +beautiful flame. + +And there was Alice Price, with her fine intuition and sublime faith. +What a white soul that strong young woman had, said he; what a beautiful +and spotless heart. In that kiss which she had stooped to press on the +young widow's forehead she had wiped away the difference which Ollie's +sin had set between her and other women. It was an act of generosity +without ostentation, which he doubted whether Alice Price herself was +aware of in its farthest significance. It was the spontaneous act of +womanly sympathy and unconscious charity. + +What Ollie Chase had said to them as they stood before her, Judge +Maxwell did not know, but what was written in their young faces as they +turned from watching her go, the whole world might have read--if it had +been as watchful and wise as he. What a fitting mate she was for that +young lion, Joe Newbolt, thought the judge; such a mate, indeed, as he +would have chosen for his own son if God had seen fit to give him that +transcendent joy. + +Judge Maxwell found himself greatly concerned about Joe Newbolt's +future. He wondered what he would make of it if left to go about it in +his own way; what he would make of it if properly armed and encouraged. +He followed that speculation a long way down the future, building dimly, +but pleasantly, in his dream. + +A ring sounded at the front door. + +Judge Maxwell did not even withdraw his eyes from the fire. Some lawyer +over in one of the other two counties embraced in that circuit +telegraphing to ask some favor of delay, or favor of something else. To +ask a favor, certainly; lawyers never telegraphed to confer favors. Old +Hiram, dozing by the kitchen stove, would hear. + +Presently old Hiram's shuffling feet sounded along the hall outside +Judge Maxwell's study door. The outer door opened and closed. Old Hiram +came into the judge's room, a candle in his hand. + +"There's a man wishin' to see you, judge, sah," he announced. + +Judge Maxwell started from his reverie. In the minute that had passed +between the ring at the door and the entry of Hiram, he had put the +visitor out of his head. + +"A gentleman to see me, Hiram? Who is it?" + +"No, sah; I don't think he's 'zactly a gentleman, sah. I don't know who +he is; he nevah give me no card, sah, but he's moughty sploshed and +blustery lookin'." + +"Well--" the judge rose, halting his speech as if thinking of one thing +and speaking of another--"fetch him in here, Hiram." + +"He's drippin' and drappin' like a leaky pail, sah," said Hiram, shaking +his cottony old head. + +"No matter; he'll do no harm, Hiram." + +Hiram brought the visitor in. The judge advanced to meet him. + +The stranger's rubber coat glistened in the light, and the hat that he +carried in his hand trickled a little stream on the carpet as he crossed +the room. Old Hiram lingered at the door, holding his candle aloft. + +The stranger stopped midway between Judge Maxwell and the door, as if +uncertain of his welcome, or conscious just at that moment of his +drenched and dripping state. He was a tall man and sparely built, and +his light-colored wet hair lay in little ringlets against his temples. +His mustache was short and stubby. His garments were splashed with mud, +as if he had come a long distance over rough roads. There was a haggard +and harried look in the man's eyes; he seemed at the highest pitch of +nervous tension. His lips were set in a grim line, as if he struggled to +hold something from utterance. His eyes were wide and wild. + +"Judge Maxwell," he began, looking around him from side to side in quick +starts, "I must apologize to you for coming into your house in this +condition, and for this late call. But I'm here on important business; I +ask you to give me a few minutes of your time alone." + +The judge nodded to Hiram, who closed the door after him. + +"Take off that wet coat--give me your hat, and sit here," said the +judge, pulling a chair around to the fire. + +The visitor drew off his rubber garment. + +"Thank you, sir," said he. "My name is Morgan, and I've come over hell's +highway, as the man said, to get to Shelbyville tonight." + +"Not Curtis Morgan?" said Judge Maxwell, lifting his eyes in startled +surprise, staying the stream of liquor that he was decanting into a +glass. + +"Yes. You've heard my name before tonight, I see," the visitor said. + +"Just so," replied the judge, in his studious way. "Drink this, unless +you have scruples?" + +"It looks to me like a life-preserver to a drowning man," said Morgan, +with a glimmer of his every-day facetiousness. He drained the glass; the +judge motioned for him to sit down. Morgan did so, and stretched his wet +feet to the fire. + +"I've got a story to tell you, Judge Maxwell," said he, again casting +his quick, almost fearful look around, "that will sound to you, maybe, +like a wild-eyed dream. But I want to tell you right now, it ain't no +dream--not by a million miles! I wish it was," he added, with a serious +twist of the head. + +"Go on," said the judge. + +"I've hurried here, Judge Maxwell, to do what I can in the name of +justice and humanity," Morgan said. "That boy, Joe Newbolt, on trial +here before you for the murder of old man Chase, is innocent. That boy +is telling the truth, Judge, and I'll stake my neck on that. I've got a +story to tell you that will clear up all he's holding back, and I'll +tell it, if I swing for it!" + +Morgan was greatly agitated. He stopped there, looking earnestly into +the judge's face. + +"Why have you waited so long?" asked the judge, sternly. + +Morgan leaned over, clutching at the judge's arm. + +"Am I too late--is it over--have they convicted him?" he asked. + +"Yes, it's over," nodded the judge, studying Morgan's face narrowly. + +"Merciful heavens!" said Morgan, springing to his feet, looking around +for his coat and hat. "We must stop this thing before it's too late, +Judge--I tell you we must stop it! Isn't there some way--have they +convicted Joe?" + +"Sit down, Morgan, and calm yourself. Hold your feet out to the blaze +and dry them," the judge admonished, kindly. + +"What's happened?" asked Morgan, wildly, not heeding the command. + +"You shall hear it all in time," promised the judge. "Sit down here and +tell me what you've been doing all these weeks. Where have you been?" + +"Judge, I've been over in Saint Joe selling books," said Morgan, "and +I'll tell you the truth, Judge, I never intended to come back here." He +turned and faced the judge, leaning forward earnestly, his face white. +He lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. "But I had to come back--I was +sent back by--by a voice!" + +"Just so," nodded Judge Maxwell. + +"You may think it's a pipe-dream, Judge, but it ain't. It's the solemn +truth, if I ever told it in my life. I intended to let Joe Newbolt go on +and carry what he'd picked up, and then when he was out of the way in +the pen, or worse, maybe, I intended to hunt Ollie up and marry her. I +didn't want that business that Joe Newbolt's been keeping back let out +on her, don't you see, Judge? It concerns her and me, Judge; it ain't +the kind of a story a man's folks would want told around about his wife, +you understand?" + +The judge nodded. + +"All right," said Morgan, wiping his forehead, which was beaded with +sweat, "Last night along about ten o'clock I was in my room reading the +account in the paper of how Joe had refused on the stand yesterday to +tell anything, and how a young woman had stood up in the court-room and +backed him up and encouraged him in his stand. I was reading along +comfortable and all right, when I seemed to hear somebody call me by my +name. + +"I tell you I seemed to hear it, for there wasn't a soul in that room +but myself, Judge. But that voice seemed to sound as close to my ear as +if it come out of a telephone. And it was a woman's voice, too, believe +me or not, Judge!" + +"Yes?" said the judge, encouragingly, still studying Morgan's face, +curiously. + +"Yes, sir. She repeated my name, 'Curtis Morgan,' just that way. And +then that voice seemed to say to me, 'Come to Shelbyville; start now, +start now!' + +"Say, I got out of my chair, all in a cold sweat, for I thought it was a +call, and I was slated to pass in my checks right there. I looked under +everything, back of everything in that room, and opened the door and +took a dive down the hall, thinkin' maybe some swift guy was tryin' to +put one over. Nobody there. As empty, Judge, I tell you, as the pa'm of +my hand! But it's no stall about that voice. I heard it, as plain as I +ever heard my mother call me, or the teacher speak to me in school. + +"I stood there holding onto the back of my chair, my legs as weak under +me as if I'd stayed in swimmin' too long. I didn't think anything about +going to Shelbyville, or anywhere else, but hell, I guess, for a minute +or two. I tell you, Judge, I thought it was a call!" + +Morgan was sweating again in the recollection of that terrible +experience. He wiped his face, and looked around the room, listened as +the rain splashed against the window, and the wind bent the branches of +the great trees beside the wall. + +"Well?" said Judge Maxwell, leaning forward in his turn, waiting for +Morgan's next word. + +"I tell you, Judge, I kept hearing that thing in my ear that way, every +little while, till I threw some things in my grip and started for the +depot. There wasn't any train out last night that'd fetch me within +fifty miles of here. I went back to my room and went to bed. But it +didn't let up on me. Off and on, all night, just about the time I'd doze +off a little, I'd seem to hear that voice. I went to the depot this +morning, and caught the eight o'clock train out. I'd 'a' made it in here +at two this afternoon if it hadn't been for a washout between here and +the junction that put the trains on this branch out of service. + +"I took a rig and I started to drive over. I got caught in the rain and +lost the road. I've been miles out of my way, and used up three horses, +but I was bound to come. And I'm here to take my medicine." + +"I see," said the judge. "Well, Morgan, I think it was the voice of +conscience that you heard, but you're no more to blame than any of us, I +suppose, because you failed to recognize it. Few of us pay enough +attention to it to let it bother us that way." + +"Believe me or not, it wasn't any pipe-dream!" said Morgan, so earnestly +that the flippancy of his slangy speech did not seem out of place. "It +was a woman's voice, but it wasn't the voice of any woman in this +world!" + +"It's a strange experience," said the judge. + +"You can call it that!" shuddered Morgan, expressive of the inadequacy +of the words. "Anyhow, I don't want to hear it again, and I'm here to +take my medicine, and go to the pen if I've got to, Judge." + +Judge Maxwell put out his hand, impatiently. + +"Don't try to make yourself out a martyr, Morgan," said he. "You +knew--and you know--very well that you hadn't done anything for which +you could be punished, at least not by a prison sentence." + +"Well, I don't know," said Morgan, twisting his head argumentatively, as +if to imply that there was more behind his villainy than the judge +supposed, "but I thought when a feller got to foolin' with another man's +wife----" + +"Oh, pshaw!" cut in the judge. "You're thinking of it as it should be, +not as it is. The thing that you're guilty of, let me tell you for your +future guidance and peace, is only a misdemeanor in this state, not a +felony. In a case like this it ought to be a capital offense. You've +shown that there's something in you by coming back to take your +medicine, as you say, and voice or no voice, Morgan, I'm going to give +you credit for that." + +"If the devil ever rode a man!" said Morgan. + +"No, it was far from that," reproved the judge. + +"It got me goin', Judge," said Morgan, scaring up a little jerky laugh, +"and it got me goin' _right_! It stuck to me till I got on that train +and headed for this town, and I'll hear the ring of it in my ear to my +last--what's that?" + +Morgan started to his feet, pale and shaking. + +"It was the wind," said the judge. + +"Well, I'm here, anyhow, and I came fast as I could," said Morgan, +appealingly. "Do you think it'll stick to me, and keep it up?" + +"Why should it?" said the judge. "You've done your duty, even though +whipped to it." + +"If the devil ever whipped a man!" breathed Morgan, "I'm that man." + +Judge Maxwell had doubted the man's sanity at first, when he began to +talk about the voice. Now he only marveled at this thing, so elusive of +all human science to explain, or human philosophy to define. He recalled +an experience of a friend--one who had been for many years court +stenographer--who, in a distant city, had been impelled to seize his +pencil on a certain night, and write a message which he seemed to hear +plainly dictated into his ear by one in Shelbyville. As soon as the post +could carry a message to the man whose voice the stenographer had heard, +he was asked about the telepathic communication. He at once mailed to +the man who had taken it down, more than two thousand miles away, the +identical message, word for word. It had been an experiment, he said. + +Perhaps something like that had occurred in Morgan's case, or perhaps +the man merely had dreamed, a recurring dream such as everybody has +experienced, and the strong impression of his vision had haunted him, +and driven him to the act. And perhaps someone of vigorous intellect and +strong will had commanded him. Perhaps--no matter. It was done. + +Morgan was there, and the record of justice in the case of state against +Newbolt was about to be made final and complete. + +"You say it's all over, Judge," spoke Morgan. "What did they do with +Joe?" + +"What happened in court today," said Judge Maxwell, rising to his feet, +"you would have heard if you had been there. But as you were not, it is +not for me to relate. That is the privilege of another, as the matter of +your condemnation or acquittal is in other hands than mine." + +"I know I acted like a dog," admitted Morgan, sincerely contrite, "both +to Ollie and to Joe. But I'm here to take my medicine, Judge. I thought +a lot of that little woman, and I'd 'a' made a lady of her, too. That +was it. Judge; that was at the bottom of this whole business. Ollie and +I planned to skip out together, and Joe put his foot in the mess and +upset it. That's what the fuss between him and old Isom was over, you +can put that down in your book, Judge. I've got it all lined out, and I +can tell you just----" + +"Never mind; I think I understand. You'd have made a lady of her, would +you? But that was when she was clean, and unsuspected in the eyes of the +world. How far would your heroism go, Morgan, if you met her in the +street tonight, bespattered with public scorn, bedraggled with public +contempt, crushed by the discovery of your mutual sin against that old +man, Isom Chase? Would you take her to your heart then, Morgan? Would +you be man enough to step out into the storm of scorn, and shoulder your +part of the load like a man?" + +"If I found her in the lowest ditch I'd take her up, Judge, and I'd +marry her--if she'd have me then!" said Morgan, earnestly. "When a man's +careless and free, Judge, he sees things one way; when he comes up on a +short rope like this, he sees them another." + +"You are right, Morgan," said the judge. + +He walked the length of the room, hands clasped behind his back, his +head bent in thought. When he came back to the fire he stood a little +while before Morgan, looking at him with intent directness, like a +physician sounding for a baffling vagary which lies hidden in the +brain. + +There was a question in his face which Morgan could not grasp. It gave +him a feeling of impending trouble. He shifted uneasily in his chair. + +"Stay here until I return," commanded the judge. "I shall not be long." + +"I'm here to take my medicine," reiterated Morgan, weakly. "I wouldn't +leave if the road was open to me, Judge." + +Judge Maxwell went to the door, calling for Hiram. Hiram was not far +away. His candle was still burning; he came bobbing along the hall with +it held high so he could look under it, after the manner of one who had +been using candles all his life. + +"My overcoat, Hiram, and my neck shawl," ordered the judge. He turned to +Morgan, who was standing on the hearth. + +"Wait for me, I'll not be long away." + +"It's a blusterin' and a blowin' mighty bad, Judge. I'll get my +coat----" + +"No, no, Hiram; there's something for you to do here. Watch that man; +don't let him leave." + +"He ain't gwine a-leave, Judge, sah," said Hiram with calm significance. + +Hiram held up the great frieze coat, and the judge plunged his arms into +it. Then the old negro adjusted the shawl about his master's shoulders, +and tucked the ends of it inside the coat, buttoning that garment over +them, to shield the judge's neck from the driving rain. + +The judge turned back into the room to throw another stick on the fire. +The lamp was burning low; he reached over to turn up the wick. The flame +jumped, faltered, went out. + +"Hah, I've turned it out, Morgan. Well, no matter. You'll not need more +light than the fire throws. Make yourself comfortable, Morgan." + +With a word to Hiram, the judge opened the door and stepped out into the +night. + +On the pavement the wind met him rudely, and the rain drove its cold +arrows against his kind old face. Wonderful are the ways of Providence, +thought Judge Maxwell, bending his head to bring his broad hat-brim to +shield his face, and complete are the accounts of justice when it is +given that men may see them down to the final word. + +The wind laid hold of the judge's coat, and tugged at it like a vicious +dog; it raged in the gaunt trees, and split in long sighs upon the +gable-ends and eaves. There was nobody abroad. For Shelbyville the hour +was late; Judge Maxwell had the street to himself as he held on his +way. + +Past the court-house he fought the wind, and a square beyond that. There +he turned down a small street, where the force of the blast was broken, +looking narrowly about him to right and left at the fronts of houses as +he passed. + +Simeon Harrison, Ollie Chase's father, lately had given over his +unprofitable struggle with the soil. He had taken a house near the +Methodist church and gone into the business of teaming. He hauled the +merchants' goods up from the railroad station, and moved such +inhabitants of Shelbyville as once in a while made a change from one +abode to another. + +Sim had come to Shelbyville with a plan for setting up a general livery +business, in which ambition he had been encouraged by Ollie's marriage +to Isom Chase, to whom he looked, remotely, for financial backing. But +that had turned out a lean and unprofitable dream. + +Since Isom's death Ollie had returned to live with her parents, and +Sim's prospects had brightened. He had put a big sign in front of his +house, upon which he had listed the many services which he stood ready +to perform for mankind, in consideration of payment therefor. They +ranged from moving trunks to cleaning cisterns, and, by grace of all of +them, Sim was doing very well. + +When Sim Harrison heard of his daughter's public confession of shameful +conduct with her book-agent boarder, he was a highly scornful man. He +scorned her for her weakness in yielding to what he termed the +"dally-faddle" of the book-agent, and he doubly scorned her for +repudiating her former testimony. The moral side of the matter was +obscure to him; it made no appeal. + +His sense of personal pride and family honor was not touched by his +daughter's confession of shame, any more than his soul was moved to +tenderness and warmth for her honest rescue of Joe Newbolt from his +overhanging peril. He was voluble in his declarations that they would +"put the screws" to Ollie on the charge of perjury. Sim would have kept +his own mouth sealed under like circumstances, and it was beyond him to +understand why his daughter had less discretion than her parent. So he +bore down on the solemn declaration that she stood face to face with a +prison term for perjury. + +Sim had made so much of this that Ollie and her mother were watching +that night out in fear and trembling, sitting huddled together in a +little room with the peak of the roof in the ceiling, a lamp burning +between them on the stand. Their arms lay listlessly in their laps, they +turned their heads in quick starts at the sound of every footfall on the +board walk, or when the wind swung the loose-jointed gate and flung it +against its anchorings. They were waiting for the sheriff to come and +carry Ollie away to jail. + +In front of Sim Harrison's house there was a little porch, not much +bigger than a hand held slantingly against its weathered side, and in +the shadow of it one who had approached unheard by the anxious watchers +through the blustering night, stood fumbling for the handle of a bell. +But Sim Harrison's door was bald of a bell handle, as it was bare of +paint, and now a summons sounded on its thin panel, and went roaring +through the house like a blow on a drum. + +Mrs. Harrison looked meaningly at Ollie; Ollie nodded, understandingly. +The summons for which they had waited had come. The older woman rose in +resigned determination, went below and opened the door. + +"It is Judge Maxwell," said the dark figure which stood large and +fearful in Mrs. Harrison's sight. "I have come to see Mrs. Chase." + +"Yes, sir; I'll call her," said the trembling woman. + +Ollie had heard from the top of the stairs. She was descending in the +darkness, softly. She spoke as her mother turned from the door. + +"I was expecting you--some of you," said she. + +"Very well, then," said Judge Maxwell, wondering if that mysterious +voice had worked another miracle. "Get your wraps and come with me." + +Mrs. Harrison began to groan and wail. Couldn't they let the poor child +stay there till morning, under her own mother's roof? It was a wild and +terrible night, and Lord knew the poor, beaten, bruised, and weary bird +would not fly away! + +"Save your tears, madam, until they are needed," said the judge, not +feeling that he was called upon to explain the purpose of his visit to +her. + +"I'm ready to go," announced Ollie, hooded and cloaked in the door. + +Sim Harrison was stirring about overhead. He came to the top of the +stairs with a lamp in his hand, and wanted to know what the rumpus was +about. + +"It's Judge Maxwell--he's come for Ollie!" said his wife, in a +despairing wail. + +"I knowed it, I knowed it!" declared Sim, with fatalistic resignation, +above which there was perhaps a slight note of triumph in seeing his own +prediction so speedily fulfilled. + +To Harrison and his wife there was no distinction between the executive +and judicial branches of the law. Judge or sheriff, it was all one to +them, each being equally terrible in their eyes. + +"When can she come home, Judge, when can she come back?" appealed Mrs. +Harrison, in anguished pleading. + +"It rests with her," returned the judge. + +He gave Ollie his arm, and they passed together in silence up the +street. They had proceeded a square before the judge spoke. + +"I am calling you on an unusual mission, Mrs. Chase," he said, "but I +did not know a better way than this to go about what I felt it my duty +to do." + +"Yes, sir," said she. He could feel her tremble as she lightly touched +his arm. + +They passed the court-house. There was a light in the sheriff's office, +but they did not turn in there, and a sigh for that temporary respite, +at least, escaped her. The judge spoke again. + +"You left the court-room today before I had a chance to speak to you, +Mrs. Chase. I wanted to tell you how much I admired your courage in +coming forward with the statement that cleared away the doubt and +tangles from Joe Newbolt's case. You deserve a great deal of credit, +which I am certain the public will not withhold. You are a brave little +woman, Ollie Chase." + +There it was again! Twice in a day she had heard it, from eminent +sources each time. The world was not a bleak desert, as she had thought, +but a place of kindness and of gentle hearts. + +"I'm glad you don't blame me," she faltered, not knowing what to make of +this unexpected turn in the night's adventure. + +"A brave little woman!" repeated the judge feelingly. "And I want you to +know that I respect and admire you for what you have done." + +Ollie was silent, but her heart was shouting, leaping, and bounding +again in light freedom, as it had lifted that morning when Alice Price +had spoken to her in her despair. At last, she said, with earnestness: + +"I promise you I'll be a good woman, too, from now on, Judge Maxwell, +and I'm thankful to you for your kind words." + +"We turn in here--this is my door," said the judge. + +Mystified, wondering what the next development of this strange excursion +into the night would be, but satisfied in her mind that it meant no ill +for her now, Ollie waited while the judge found the keyhole, for which +he groped in the dark. + +"And the matter of the will was all disposed of by the probate judge +today, I hear," said the judge, his hand on the door. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Then your life is all before you, to make of it what you will," said +he, placing his hand on her shoulder, as she stood with him in the dim +hall. He opened the study door. The wood on the grate was blazing +brightly. Ollie saw someone standing before it, bending slightly forward +in the pose of expectation. He was tall and of familiar figure, and the +firelight was playing in the tossed curls of his short, fair hair. + +"In there," said the judge, "if you care to go." + +Ollie did not stir. Her feet felt rooted to the floor in the wonder and +doubt of this strange occurrence. + +"Ollie!" cried the man at the hearthstone, calling her name imploringly. +He came forward, holding out pleading hands. + +She stood a moment, as if gathering herself to a resolution. A sob rose +in her throat, and broke from her lips transformed into a trembling, +sharp, glad cry. It was as if she had cast the clot of sorrow from her +heart. Then she passed into the room and met him. + +Judge Maxwell closed the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +LEST I FORGET + + +Mrs. Newbolt was cutting splints for her new sun-bonnet out of a +pasteboard box. She hitched her chair back a little farther into the +shadow of the porch, for the impertinent sun was winking on her bright +scissors, dazzling her eyes. + +It was past the turn of the afternoon; a soft wind was moving with +indolence among the tender leaves, sleepy from the scents of lilac and +apple bloom which it had drunk on its way. And now it loitered under the +eaves of the porch to mix honeysuckle with its stream of drowsy sweets, +like a chemist of Araby the Blest preparing a perfume for the harem's +pride. + +There was the gleam of fresh paint on the walls of the old house. The +steps of the porch had been renewed with strong timber, the rotting +siding had been replaced. Mrs. Newbolt's chair no longer drew squeaks +and groans from the floor of the porch as she rocked, swaying gently as +her quick shears shaped the board. New flooring had been laid there, and +painted a handsome gray; the falling trellis between gate and door had +been plumbed and renewed. + +New life was everywhere about the old place, yet its old charm was +undisturbed, its old homeliness was unchanged. Comfort had come to +dejection, tidiness had been restored to beauty. The windows of the old +house now looked upon the highway boldly, owing the world nothing in the +way of glass. + +Where the sprawling rail fence had lain for nearly forty years, renewed +piecemeal from time to time as it rotted away, its corners full of +brambles, its stakes and riders overrun with poison-vine; where this +brown, jointed structure had stretched, like a fossil worm, a great +transformation had come. The rails were gone, the brambles were cleared +away, and a neat white fence of pickets stretched in front of the house. +This was flanked on either hand by a high fence of woven wire, new to +that country then, at once the wonder of the old inhabitants, the +despair of prowling hogs and the bewilderment of hens. There was a gate +now where the old gap had been; it swung shut behind one with an eager +little spring, which startled agents and strangers with the sharpness of +its click. + +The shrubbery had been cleared of dead wood, and the underlying +generations of withered honeysuckle vines which had spread under the +green upon the old trellis, had been taken away. Freshness was there, +the mark of an eager, vigorous hand. The matted blue grass which sodded +the yard had been cut and trimmed to lines along the path. A great and +happy change had come over the old place, so long under the shadow. +People stopped to admire it as they passed. + +"Well, well; it's the doin's of that boy, Joe Newbolt!" they said. + +Mrs. Newbolt paused in her clipping of bonnet slats to make a menacing +snip at a big white rooster which came picking around the steps. The +fowl stretched his long neck and turned his bright eye up to his +mistress with a slanting of the head. + +"How did you git out of that pen, you old scalawag?" she demanded. + +The rooster took a long and dignified step away from her, where he +stood, with little appearance of alarm, turning his head, questioning +her with his shining eye. She made a little lunge with her shears. + +"Yes, I'm goin' to tell Joe on you, you scamp!" she threatened. + +"_Coo-doot-cut!_" said the rooster, looking about him with a long +stretching of the neck. + +"Yes, you better begin to cackle over it," said she, speaking in solemn +reproof, as if addressing a child, "for Joe he'll just about cut your +sassy old head clean off! If he don't do that, he'll trim down that wing +of yourn till you can't bat a skeeter off your nose with it, you +redick-lous old critter!" + +But it was not the threat of Joe that had drawn the cry of alarm from +the fowl. The sound of steps was growing along the path from the front +gate, and the fowl scampered off to the cover of the gooseberry vines, +as Mrs. Newbolt turned to see who the visitor was. The scissors fell +from her lap, and her spool trundled off across the porch. + +"Laws, Sol Greening, you give me a start, sneakin' up like that!" + +Sol laughed out of his whiskers, with a big, loose-rolling sound, and +sat on the porch without waiting to be asked. + +"I walked up over the grass," said he. "It's as soft under your feet as +plowed ground. They say Joe's got one of them lawn-cutters to mow it +with?" + +"Well, what if he has?" she wanted to know. "He's got a good many things +and improvements around here that you folks that's lived here for +seventy years and more never seen before, I reckon." + +"He sure is a great feller for steppin' out his own way!" marveled Sol. +"I never seen such a change in a place inside of a year as Joe's made in +this one--never in my mortal borned days. It was a lucky day for Joe +when Judge Maxwell took a likin' to him that way." + +Mrs. Newbolt was looking away toward the hills, a dreamy cast in her +placid face. + +"Yes," said she, "there's no denyin' that. But Joe he'd 'a' got along, +Judge Maxwell or no Judge Maxwell. Only it'd 'a' been slower and harder +for him." + +"He would 'a'," nodded Sol, without reservation. "No discountin' on +that. That boy beats anything this here country ever perduced, barrin' +none, and I ain't sayin' that, either, ma'am, just to please you." + +"Much thanks I owe you for what you think of Joe!" said she, scornfully. +"You was ready enough, not so very long ago, to set the whole world +ag'in' him if you could." + +"Well, circumstantial evidence--" began Sol. + +"Oh, circumstantial nest-eggs!" said she, impatiently. "You'd known Joe +all his life, and you know very well he didn't shoot Isom Chase any more +than you done it yourself!" + +"Well, mistakes is humant," sighed Sol, taking advantage of that +universal absolution. "They say Judge Maxwell's goin' to leave +everything he's got to Joe, and he's got a considerable, I reckon." + +"I don't know as Joe'd take it," said she, folding her hands in her lap. +"Judge Maxwell had a hard time to git Joe to let him put in the money to +do things around here, and send him to college over in Shelbyville last +winter. Joe let him do it on the understandin' that it was a loan, to be +paid interest on and paid back when he was able." + +"Well, from the start he's makin' it don't look like the judge 'd have +very long to wait for his money," said Sol. "Twenty acres of apple trees +all in a orchard together, and twenty acres of strawberries set out +betwixt and between the rows!" + +He looked over the hillside and little apron of valley where Joe's young +orchard spread. Each tiny tree was a plume of leaves; the rows stretched +out to the hilltop, and over. + +"I can figger out how twenty acres of apples can be picked and took care +of," reflected Sol, as if going over with himself something which he had +given thought to before, "but I'll be durned if I can figger out how any +man's goin' to pick and take care of twenty acres of strawberries!" + +"Joe knows," said his mother. + +"Well, I hope he does," sighed Sol, the sigh being breathed to give +expression of what remained unspoken. No matter what his hopes, his +doubts were unshaken. + +No man had ever taken care of twenty acres of strawberries--nor the +twentieth part of one acre, for that matter--in that community. No man +could do it, according to the bone-deep belief of Sol and his kind. + +"Joe says that's only a little dab of a start," said she. + +"Cree-mo-nee!" said Sol, his mouth standing open like a mussel shell in +the sun. "When'll they be ripe?" + +"Next spring." + +"Which?" queried Sol, perking his head in puzzled and impertinent way, +very much as the rooster had done a little while before him. + +"Next spring, I said," she repeated, nodding over her bonnet, into which +she was slipping the splints. + +"No crop this year?" + +"No; Joe says it weakens the plants to bear the first year they're set. +It takes the strength away from the roots, he says. He goes through the +field and snips off every bloom he sees when he's hoein' among 'em, and +I help him between times. We don't git all of 'em, by a mighty sight, +though." + +Sol shook his head with wise depreciation. + +"Throwin' away money," said he. + +"Did you ever raise any strawberries?" she inquired, putting down the +bonnet, bringing Sol up with a sharp look. + +"Reckon I raised as many as Joe ever did, and them mainly with a spoon," +said Sol. + +The joke was not entirely new; it could not have been original with Sol +by at least three hundred years. But it did very well as an excuse for +Sol to laugh. He was always looking for excuses to laugh, that was the +one virtue in him. Without his big laugh he would have been an empty +sack without a bottom. + +"Joe got them rows mighty purty and straight," said Sol, squinting along +the apple trees. + +"Yes, he set 'em out accordin' to geog'aphy," said she. + +"Which?" said Sol. + +"Ge-og'a-phy, I said. Didn't you never hear tell of that before neither, +Sol Greening?" + +"Oh," said Sol, lightly, as if that made it all as plain to him as his +own cracked thumbs. "How much does Joe reckon he'll git off of that +patch of berries when it begins to bear?" + +"I never heard him say he expected to make anything," said she, "but I +read in one of them fruit-growin' papers he takes that they make as much +as three hundred dollars an acre from 'em back in Ellinoi." + +Sol got up, slowly; took a backward step into the yard; filled his +lungs, opened his mouth, made his eyes round. Under the internal +pressure his whiskers stood on end and his face grew red. "Oh, you git +_out_!" said he. + +"I can show it to you in the paper," she offered, making as if to put +aside her sewing. + +Sol laid a finger on his palm and stood with his head bent. After a bit +he looked up, his eyes still round. + +"If he even makes a hundred, that'll be two thousand dollars a year!" + +It was such a magnificent sum that Sol did not feel like taking the +familiarity with it of mentioning it aloud. He whispered it, giving it +large, rich sound. + +"Why, I reckon it would be," said she, offhand and careless, just as if +two thousand a year, more or less, mattered very little to Joe. + +"That's more than I ever made in my whole dad-blame life," said Sol. + +"Well, whose fault is it, Sol?" asked she. + +"I don't believe it can be done!" + +"You'll see," she assured him, comfortably. + +"And Joe he went and stuck to the old place," reflected Sol. "He might +'a' got some better land for his sperimentin' and projeckin' if he'd 'a' +looked around." + +"He was offered land, all the land a man could want," said she. "Ollie +wanted him to take over the Chase home place and farm it when she and +Morgan married and left, but Joe he said no; the Newbolts had made their +failures here, he said, and here they was goin' to make their success. +He had to redeem the past, Joe said, and wipe out the mistakes, and show +folks what a Newbolt can do when he gits his foot set right." + +"He'll do it, too," said Sol, without a reserved grudge or jealousy; +"he's doin' it already." + +"Yes, I always knew Joe would," said she. "When he was nothing but a +little shaver he'd read the _Cottage Encyclopedy_ and the _Imitation_ +and the Bible, from back to back. I said then he'd be governor of this +state, and he will." + +She spoke confidently, nodding over her work. + +"Shucks! How do you know he will?" + +Sol's faith was not strong in this high-flying forecast. It seemed to +him that it was crowding things a little too far. + +"You'll live to see it," said she. + +Sol sat with his back against a pillar of the porch, one foot on the +ground, the other standing on the boards in front of him, his hands +locked about his doubled knee. He sat there and looked up at the Widow +Newbolt, raising his eyebrows and rolling his eyes, but not lifting his +head, which was slightly bent. "Well, what's to be's to be," said he. +"When's he goin' to marry?" + +"When he's through goin' to college." + +"That'll be two or three years, maybe?" + +"Maybe." + +"Hum; Alice Price she'll be gettin' purty well along by that time." + +"She's not quite a year older than Joe," Mrs. Newbolt corrected him, +with some asperity, "and she's one of the kind that'll keep. Well, I was +married myself, and had a baby, when I was nineteen. But that's no +sign." + +"Joe'll build, I reckon, before then?" guessed Sol. + +"No; Alice don't want him to. She wants to come here a bride, to this +house, like I come to it long, long ago. We'll fix up and make ready for +her, little by little, as we go along. It'll be bringin' back the +pleasure of the old days, it'll be like livin' my courtship and marriage +over. This was a fine house in the days that Peter brought me here, for +Peter, he had money then, and he put the best there was goin' into it." + +"It looks better than any house around here now, since you fixed it up +and painted it," said Sol. + +"It's better inside than outside," said she, with a woman's pride in a +home, which justifies her warmth for it. "We had it all plastered and +varnished. The doors and casin's and all the trimmin's are walnut, worth +their weight in gold, now, almost, Judge Maxwell says." + +"Yes, the curly walnut's all gone, years and years ago," said Sol. + +"It passed away with the pioneers," sighed she. + +"I suppose they'll build in time, though?" Sol said. + +"I 'low they will, maybe, after I'm gone," said she. + +"Well, well!" said Sol. He sat silent a little while. "Folks never have +got over wonderin' on the way she took up with Joe," he said. + +Mrs. Newbolt flashed up in a breath. + +"Why should anybody wonder, I'd like for you to tell me?" she demanded. +"Joe he's good enough for her, and too good for anybody else in this +county! Who else was there for Joe, who else was there for Alice?" + +Sol did not attempt to answer. It was beyond him, the way some people +figgered, he thought in the back of his mind. There was his own girl, +Tilda Bell. He considered her the equal to any Newbolt that ever +straddled a horse and rode over from Kentucky. But then, you never could +tell how tastes run. + +"Well, reckon I'll have to be rackin' out home," said he, getting up, +tiptoeing to take the cramp out of his legs. + +"Yes, and I'll have to be stirrin' the pots to get supper for my boy +Joe," she said. + +The smoke from her kitchen fire rose white as she put in dry sumac to +give it a start. It mounted straight as a plume for a little way, until +it met the cool air of evening which was beginning to fall. There it +spread, like a floating silken scarf, and settled over the roof. It +draped down slowly over the walls, until it enveloped the old home like +the benediction of a loving heart. + +The sun was descending the ladder of the hills; low now it stood above +them, the valley in shadow more than half its breadth, a tender flood of +gold upon the slope where the new orchard waved its eager shoots; the +blessing of a day was passing in the promise of a day to come. + +Out of the kitchen came the cheerful sound of batter for the corn bread +being beaten in the bowl, and with it Sarah Newbolt's voice in song: + + _Near the cross, O Lamb of God_---- + +The beating of the batter dimmed the next line. Then it rose to the +close---- + + _Let me walk from day to day, + With its shadow o'er me._ + +The clamp of the oven door was heard, and silence followed. + +Sarah was standing on the porch again wiping her hands on her apron, +looking away toward the fields. The sun was dipping now into the forest +cresting the hills; the white rooster was pacing the outside of the wire +enclosure from which he had escaped, in frantic search of an opening to +admit him to his perch, his proud head all rumpled in his baffled +eagerness, his dangling wattles fiery red. + +The smoke had found the low places in garden and lawn, where it hovered; +a dove wailed from the old orchard, where a pair of them nested year +after year; a little child-wind came with soft fingers, and laid them on +the waiting woman's hair. + +Her face quickened with a smile. Joe was coming home from the field. +Over his shoulder he carried his hoe, and as he came on toward her in +yard-long strides his mother thought of the young soldiers she had seen +march away to the war, carrying their guns in that same free confidence +of careless strength. His hat was pushed back from his forehead, the +collar of his blue flannel shirt was open. His boyish suspenders had +been put away in favor of a belt, which was tight-drawn about his slim +waist. + +Very trim and strong, and confident he looked, with the glow of youth in +his cheeks, and the spark of happiness in his gray eyes. He was well set +in the form of a man now, the months since his imprisonment having +brought him much to fasten upon and hold. + +Joe made the same great splashing that he had made on that spring +evening of a year gone by, when he came home from work to step into the +shadow which so quickly grew into a storm. But there was no shadow ahead +of him this night; there was no somber thing to bend down the high +serenity of his happy heart. + +He stood before the glass hung above the wash bench and smoothed his +hair. Mrs. Newbolt was standing by the stove, one of the lids partly +removed, some white thing in her hand which she seemed hesitating over +consigning to the flames. + +"What've you got there, Mother?" he asked cheerily as he turned to take +his place at the waiting table. + +"Laws," said she, in some perturbation, her face flushed, holding the +thing in her hand up to his better view, "it's that old paper I got from +Isom when I--a year ago! I mislaid it when the men was paintin' and +plasterin', and I just now run across it stuck back of the coffee jar." + +For a moment Joe stood behind her, silently, looking over her shoulder +at the signature of Isom Chase. + +"It's no use now," said she, her humiliation over being confronted with +this reminder of her past perfidy against her beloved boy almost +overwhelming her. "We might as well put it in the stove and git it out +of sight." + +Joe looked at her with a smile, his face still solemn and serious for +all its youth and the fires of new-lit hope behind his eyes. He laid his +hand upon her shoulder assuringly, and closed the stove. + +"Give it to me, Mother," said he, reaching out his hand. + +She placed the bond of his transference to Isom Chase in it, and those +old heart-wrung tears of hers, which had been dry upon her cheeks now +for many a happy day, welled, and flowed down silently. + +Joe folded the paper. + +"I'll keep it, Mother," said he, "so that it will stand as a reminder to +me in prosperity that I was once poor and in bondage; and in my +happiness that it may tell me of the days when I was forsaken and in +prison, with only my mother's faithful hand to comfort me. + +"I'll put it away and keep it, Mother, lest in my prosperity some day I +may forget the Lord; forget that He giveth, and that He taketh away, +also; that His hand chastiseth in the same measure that it bestows +blessings upon us. I'll leave it up here, Mother, on the old shelf; +right where I can see it every time I take down the Book." + + W. B. C. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BONDBOY*** + + +******* This file should be named 30567-8.txt or 30567-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/5/6/30567 + + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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