CHAPTER III
A Rude Awakening
"Guess this'll be a surprise for 'em."
His heart throbbing a little faster than it was wont to do, and hispulses beating tumultuously, Jack crept along a passage, and presentlycame to a large door which stood ajar. There was someone within the roomwithout a doubt; for he heard whispering voices, while, though the placewas not lighted, every now and again a ray swept past the door, andpenetrated through the chink beneath it, as if one of the burglars had alamp and were flashing it to and fro. Then he heard the chink of metal.
"Silver!" he heard someone exclaim.
"H--h--ush! You'll wake the house, booby! Silver it is, and plenty ofit. Easier ter take Jem Bowen's glint than dig for gold in Californy.Put 'em in the sack. Never mind bending the things. They'll all come outthe same in the melting-pot. Here, leave the job ter me and get to theother cabinet."
The dulled sound of footsteps came to Jack's ear, and every now andagain a metallic sound, as the silver articles were dropped into thesack. As for himself, he had made no sound as he came along the passage,for it was luxuriously carpeted. He stood at the door, hesitatingagain, eager to enter and face the men, and yet doubting whether theright moment had yet arrived. And our hero was to discover again to hiscost that indecision does not always pay. In fact, that the man who canmake up his mind on the spur of the moment, in a flash as it were, andact upon it inflexibly, without doubts, without a second's delay, is theman who more often succeeds in this life than he who is dilatory. Butexpedition in such matters is not to be expected from a lad of Jack'sage. It was only natural that he should hesitate. After all, he wassuddenly face to face with a dilemma which might well have tried thediscretion and courage and steadiness of an elder man. He hesitated.
"If I go now they will get clean away with that silver. If I wait tillthey are fully engaged, and then wake someone in the house, then theymay well be captured. Guess I'll wait. Helloo!"
Another dull footfall had come to his ears, and he swung round to seewho had caused it. A big man was stealing up to him along the corridor,a man dressed in nightshirt and trousers, bearing a small lantern, andarmed with a club. Jack was thoroughly startled, and, to be honest, losthis head. He was between two fires, and was likely to be singed by both.
"S-s-s-sh!" he whispered, holding up his finger. "In there. In there."
He pointed to the room at the door of which he stood, and again held uphis finger for silence. But the man who was creeping down that passagehad but one idea in his mind. He had been awakened by a sound, and fromhis position in one wing of the mansion had caught the flash of a lightin one of the living rooms. The instant he saw Jack he took him for aburglar, and, now that he was within striking distance, he disregardedour hero's signs, and, suddenly dashing in, brought his club down with afurious swish. Fortunately for Jack it missed the mark. But in anothermoment they were locked in one another's arms, the newcomer endeavouringto use his club, while Jack gripped his arm with all his might. Theyfell to the ground during the struggle, and continued the contest there.
"Leave go!" shouted Jack at the top of his voice. "Can't you tell I'm onthe same errand as you are. There are two men in there. Burglars! I'vetracked them."
Crash! The club, seized in the man's other hand, came with a resoundingbang against his head, and in a second our hero was unconscious. At thesame moment the door of the room was torn open, and the lamp, which hadrolled to the floor of the passage, but which was not extinguished,showed the two whom Jack had followed.
"Hands up!" shouted the fellow who had so unexpectedly appeared upon thescene, and who had made such a stupid error with respect to our hero."Yer won't! Then take the consequences!"
He was a sturdy fighter, this caretaker of the mansion and in one briefhalf-second had broken the arm of one of the men. Then he attacked thesecond, and no doubt would have done him a like injury with hisformidable weapon had not the fellow drawn back. Something brightglinted in his hand; there was a sharp report, which went echoing downthe corridor, and instantly his attacker fell to the ground.
"Wall! If that don't beat everything! Dead, is he?"
The one with the broken arm bent over, supporting his injured limb withthe other, and looked at the man who had been shot.
"As mutton," he said curtly; "and serve him right. He's broken my arm."
"Who's the other? Seems he must have been following us, and this oldfool took him for one of our gang. Turn him over."
Together they rolled Jack over on to his back and inspected his face.
"Gee!" cried the leader, the one who had come to the forge that morning;"ef it ain't the youngster who made the key for me. And I thought he wassoft. Phew! Wall, he's brought it on hisself. Get the sack, mate, andlet's be moving. We know the old man was alone in the house, so thar'sno hurry. But it won't do ter wait. Someone else might be in the game.Get the sack, and we'll drive."
Without a thought for the man they had shot, or for poor Jack, theydecamped from the mansion, leaving the two victims lying on the floor.Ten minutes later their buggy was whirling them away, so that no tracewas left of them when the morning came. And it was not till then thatthe crime was discovered. A gardener found the door open, and, beingunable to make the caretaker hear, entered the mansion. An hour laterHopeville's solitary policeman was there.
"Hm! A burglary," he said knowingly; "and the old man came in at theright moment. Is he dead?"
"Left for dead, but still breathing ever so gently," answered thegardener. "I've sent for the doctor."
"And t'other fellow?"
"Head pretty nigh bashed in. Insensible, and likely to remain so for aday," was the report. "Reckon Davy caught him nicely. What'll you do?"
"Note the surroundings first. Then, when the doctor arrives, get 'em tobed. Reckon the thief couldn't be moved yet awhile."
It was an hour before surgical aid arrived, and very soon afterwardsJack was put into a bed in one of the attics, with a groom to watch him,and make sure that he did not escape. As for Davy, he was carried to asofa, the movement nearly shaking the slender thread of life stillremaining out of his body. He rallied slightly, opened his eyes, and ina feeble voice gave an account of the burglary. Then he closed his eyes,and died within ten minutes.
"Which makes the case worse for that young blackguard upstairs," saidthe man of law. "To think that James Orring's man should take to suchways. I've sent along for him, so as to ask a few questions. Guess he'llbe mighty put about. It was only yesterday that he passed me on theroad, and got to talking about young Jack Kingsley. It'll be a caseof----" He jerked his head back, and indicated a hanging.
"Y-e-e-es," agreed the other doubtfully, "ef it's proved. In the Statesa man ain't guilty, and don't hang in consequence, till he's proved tohave done murder."
"Proved! It's a clear case," exclaimed the policeman. "Clear asdaylight. Here's the young blackguard discovered on the premises,knocked silly by Davy's club, and Davy himself dyin'. Ef that ain'tclear, what is?"
His familiarity with the law, the necessity for showing greaterknowledge than the gardener, caused the policeman to sniff withindignation. To his legal mind Jack was not only guilty of the offence,but was already condemned. Indeed, looking at the evidence clearly,things wore a black aspect for him. Now that Davy was dead there was noone to give evidence but himself, and the poor fellow who had sorecently died had definitely stated that Jack was one of the burglars,believing that to be the case himself.
Let the reader imagine our hero's feelings when at length he regainedconsciousness, and was taken to the station-house.
"Taken for one of the burglars, just because that poor, stupid fellowmade the mistake! Surely not," he groaned. "That would be too cruel! Ican prove that I was not. I can describe what happened--how I met themon the heath and followed. I can speak about the key, and----"
He broke off with a groan, for as he reviewed the matter he realizedthat he could but make a statement of what had happened, but that therewas no
one to bear it out. After all, facts were glaringly against him.Indeed he realized that to the full when he was brought up before thesheriff and judges.
"The prisoner states that he was at work in the forge when a man enteredand desired to have a key made," counsel for the prosecution announced,when summing up the case. "That may or may not be the case, though wecan believe that it happened, for there were footmarks in the mudoutside the smithy which correspond with others on the lawn outside themansion. But we maintain that those marks were those of an accomplice.The prisoner made the key to match a wax impression supplied by thisaccomplice, and carelessly left the impression in the smithy. Now let usfollow the prisoner's movements. He shuts the smithy and goes off in theevening, as he has done many times before. But let us bear in mind animportant item of evidence. On ordinary days he would have to be back bynine o'clock at the latest. But on this particular evening he owns thathe walked so far that a return at that hour was impossible. With that weplace the fact that James Orring and his wife were lured away fromHopeville for the night. Is that not very suggestive of prisoner'scomplicity in this crime? He lures his patron away, so that his absenceshall not be detected. And why should he walk farther on this particularoccasion? To meet the buggy with his two accomplices. The tracks on theheather are clear enough to show that three men were about the buggy. Itstands to reason that one man could not have been spying, for he wouldcertainly have been detected.
"And now we come to the mansion. Davy declares that this man was one ofthe miscreants, though he did not say who fired the shot. That is hisdying deposition. Is it probable that he would have thrown himself upona defenceless youth? Highly improbable. Unbelievable. Contrary to commonsense. And had he done so, is it possible that he could still havepersevered in his error? No, a thousand times no! Davy, at death'sdoor, gave us his honest conviction."
Terribly black was the evidence, and it may be imagined with what asinking heart our unfortunate hero listened to it all. There was no oneto speak for him, save honest James Orring, who sturdily maintained thathis apprentice was innocent.
"Find the weapon with which he shot the man Davy," he asked savagely,"and then talk of the lad's guilt. A steadier boy never worked in aforge. Him a burglar! Not much! And ef he was, do yer think I shouldn'thave spotted it, with him under my eyes day and night?"
Jack's case stirred the countryside, and filled the columns of thepaper. Discussion as to his guilt or innocence waxed loud and furious,and was responsible for many incidents. People took up the cudgels forhim in the saloons, and often enough that led to angry words and tobroken heads. Even the jury wavered. Looking at Jack in the dock theywere bound to confess that a franker face never before was seen. Theprisoner faced his terrible position with a courage and fortitude whichwere commendable, while his answers were so direct, so evidentlyspontaneous and sincere, that even with that damning evidence beforethem the most experienced of the jury felt a qualm, hesitated a little,and was inclined to give some benefit to the prisoner.
"It'll be manslaughter," said James dolefully, "as he discussed thematter with his wife. They'll never hang Jack, even though the evidenceis so black against him. He'll be given ten years, ten long years, inprison."
Mrs. Orring wept, and was joined by Jack's mother, who had come to staywith them during the trial.
"Ten long years," she moaned. "He'll be an old man by then. To thinkthat a bonny fellow such as he must be shut up for the finest years ofhis life, must be treated like a wild beast. Oh, it is horrible!"
"He shan't! I tell yer he shan't!" cried James, banging his fist on theparlour table till the whole floor shook. "Even though I war the victimof a hoax that cleared me away for the time being, I ain't never hadought but a friendly feelin' for young Jack, and I'm dead sartin thathe's as innocent as a babe. If them skunks who were in it had the pluckof sparrows, they'd come forward and declare theirselves. But theywon't--trust 'em! And they'll see this young chap nigh hanged and put inprison, while they're free ter burglar other places. Jack's up againstit hot and strong, and I'm his friend. I say again, he shan't go toprison."
His vehemence was remarkable, and stirred his listeners.
"Not go to prison! You won't----" commenced Mrs. Orring.
"Silence, woman!" thundered James, his brows knit close together, hiseyes staring at the opposite wall. "Ye've heard what I've had to say.Then silence! Not another word! Don't breathe a syllable to a soul. Goodnight!"
The usually pleasant and easy-going smith got up and left the roomabruptly, while the two women stared at one another, half-laughing andhalf-weeping.
"This is how I look at it," said James, when he was well away from thehouse. "I can't get to think in there with women round me, but here aman can see things clearer. Jack's done. If he ain't hanged, he'll beput away fer ten solid years. And how's he ter prove his innocence whenhe's cooped up within four walls? He can't, and thar's no one else to doit fer him. And supposin' he goes fer the ten years, he's branded as afelon, and won't have the spirit or the energy ter try to clear himselfwhen at last he gets free. I don't, as a rule, get advisin' a man as isinnocent ter skip before his trial's finished. It makes things all theblacker agin him. But here's a case where no good can come with waitin'.He's branded, sure, and he'll stay branded if he goes to prison. I'll goand see Pete."
Pete was an old friend of James's, and because of help he had had at acritical time, from the owner of the smithy, he always had an indulgentear for James.
"Ef yer could get ter chat along with the policeman, maybe I'd be ableter take a look at Jack," said James, accosting his friend, and passinghim a wink. "Not yet awhile, though, 'cos I'm busy. But after tea. Jestabout sevin o'clock."
Pete looked up quickly, and a sharp glance shot from his eyes. He was aman of sixty-five, perhaps, though he looked older, and was already aswhite as snow as to his hair and beard. But he was no fool, was Pete,and his glance showed that he half-understood James.
"You aer thinkin' that boy's innocent?" he asked, as he sucked at hispipe.
"Dead sartin," replied James. "Sit down and have a smoke. Try mine."
He handed out his tobacco skin, and Pete filled from it gratefully.
"Up!" he remarked, as he pulled at the pipe; "and you was thinkin' maybethat Jack----"
"Yer know what I was thinkin', Pete," exclaimed James bluntly. "Look yehere. Have yer ever been dead down on yer luck, right clean hard up aginit?"
Pete nodded, his ferrety little eyes watching the smoke curl up from thebowl, and his whole expression denoting satisfaction.
"I've been dead down on the rocks, with the pinnacles comin' clearthrough," he admitted, as if the recollection caused him enjoyment."I've had fortune play me so scurvily that I couldn't see a crustanywheres, and hadn't but one friend ter turn to. Yes, James, I've knowdwhat it is ter be clean up agin it."
"And yer didn't want help?"
"Ye've struck it wrong. Every man wants help some day. It may be onlywhen he's old and tottery, like me----" he stopped to smile, and watchthe smoke again--"jest like me," he repeated. "Sometimes he don't wantit even then. But there's others want it, soon and plenty, when they'rejust cuttin' their teeth. Guess Jack's one of 'em."
"And he's jest got one friend," said James slowly. "That's me."
"Then you've struck it wrong agin. Jack's got two. Jack's friend is myfriend. I don't forget the time when I was up agin it."
The shrewd, sharp look came again from the old man, and James noted it.Taking his courage in both hands he blurted out his news.
"I'm goin' to fetch him out of that ere jug of a prison," he saidcurtly. "Help me with the policeman, and--and----"
"Why, bless us! what am I doin'," cried Pete, suddenly taking his pipefrom his mouth. "It's five o'clock now, and I must be goin'. I've got a'pointment with the constable at sivin, jest to do a bit of talkin'. Solong, James."
"And bless you," thought the owner of the smithy, as Pete departed. "Nowef I don't fix it, my name ain't James Orring. First thing'
s an aliby."
He stood thinking for a few moments, and then hastened back home. Teawas ready, and after that, and a smoke, it wanted only a quarter toseven.
"Missus," said James suddenly, "I'm agoin' to bed. I've a headache. Jestcome in and put the light out, will yer."
Mrs. Orring was not gifted with a brilliant wit, and stood for a whileregarding her husband with questioning eyes. For James certainly did notlook to have a headache. If ever a man looked in robust and absolutehealth it was he. But Jack's mother saved the situation.
"I think I should go and do as he says in a few moments, dear," shewhispered. "You see, to-morrow you will be able to tell the people thatJames went to bed, and that you left him there, sick with a headache."
It dawned upon Mrs. Orring that this manoeuvre of her husband's mighthave something to do with Jack, and promptly she carried out his wishes.
"And jest sit right there in the front parlour," said James, as thelight was put out. "Then I shan't be disturbed with the talking. Yercan come in and see how my head's doin' when I call. Not before, 'cos Ishall likely be sleepin'."
He yawned, turned over, and drew the clothes well across him, as ifdisposing himself for sleep. But within a minute of Mrs. Orring'sdeparture, James was out of bed. To open the window and leap out was thework of a moment. Then he went straight to the smithy, procured a fileand a hammer, and, covering his face with a scarf, set off towards theprison, choosing a path at the back of the houses.
"Better see as Pete's got the constable in tow," he said to himself ashe went. "Now's the time to work a liberation, 'cos this jail ain't bynoways strong. But after the trial's over, and the verdict's given,guess Jack'll be taken to a place as strong as could be wanted. Now whatin thunder aer we ter do with him when he's out."
The difficulty almost floored James, and for a time he sat pondering.
"Got it!" he cried at last. "Thar's bound ter be a hue and cry, and adickens of a fuss; and the country-side'll be searched high and low.Guess I'll help ter put 'em off the tracks."
Some ten minutes later he was close to the prison, and had safely hiddenhimself in the angle of a house from which he could watch the street.Hopeville boasted of a town hall and a jail, both perched at the edge ofa square, which, now that the township was a dozen years old, had becomethe fashionable promenade of the inhabitants. It was lighted by somehalf-dozen swaying oil lamps, and was provided with a few benches. Onone of these, some distance from the tiny prison, Pete was seated asJames looked, smoking quietly, and engaged in earnest conversation withthe only constable that Hopeville possessed. And if that conversationcould have been overheard, it would have appeared at once that theartful Pete was playing on the constable's vanity.
"Good for me! Good for Jack!" thought James. "Now, I won't lose no timeabout it, and I'll go at it like a man."
Being the only smith in the place, he was thoroughly acquainted with theins and outs of the prison, and knew the solitary cell it boasted. Jameswas no believer in half-measures. He clambered on to a wall at the backof the prison, made his way along it, and gained a roof. The grilledwindow of the cell looked on to this, and in a twinkling James was atit.
"Hist!" he called through the bars. "That you, Jack!"
He had to repeat the summons before our hero put in an appearance.
"What is it?" he asked sleepily. "You! James!"
"Fer sure. Look here, Jack! Ye're innocent, and we knows it."
Our hero nodded curtly. He had heard the same tale from James before,and had blessed him for his support. But the iron of this terrible timehad seared his mind; his feelings were dulled; he felt that he wasalready branded a thief and a murderer.
"And I've made up me mind ter give yer a chance. Look here, lad! Ef yergo to prison it'll be fer ten solid years, and thar'll be no one terclear you."
"Well," asked Jack, his eyes brightening a little.
"Ef yer bolts, people can't say more than they have done. Yer ain't moreguilty than yer wur afore, but yer have a chance ter get hold of thatchap and make him clear yer. Savvy? Wall, yer can take yer liberty orleave it. It's right here, outside the windy. Will yer have it?"
Jack thought for a moment. He realized that to leave was practically todeclare his guilt. Then he looked at the other side, the prison side:the impossibility of being able to show his innocence--the hopelessnessof his future life. Rightly or wrongly he chose liberty.
"I'll take it," he said breathlessly. "How'll you manage the bars? I'llleave 'em to you, while I scribble a note."
He went across to the far side of the cell, where light entered theplace in a thin stream from a candle placed in a niche in the corridoroutside. Pulling out a pocket-book, he wrote boldly and in largeletters:
"This is to declare solemnly, on my word of honour, that I am entirelyinnocent, and that every word I have uttered is true. I have to facedeath or imprisonment under the brand of a felon, and without hope ofjustice reaching me. On the far side of my prison bars I see liberty: ifI can gain it, the chance to clear my good name and bring the right mento justice. I choose the last, whether it stamps me guilty or not. Iwill return when the time arrives, and will deliver myself up again tothe law."
He scrawled his name boldly beneath the words, and left the sheet ofpaper on the tiny table. Meanwhile James had stripped off his coat, hadwrapped it into a thick buffer, and, placing this against the bars, hadbroken them with a few lusty blows from his hammer. In a minute Jack wasfree, shaking himself like a dog just emerged from the water.
"And now?" he asked.
"Jest come along with me, and doggo aer the order. Do yer remember thestore of scrap, back of the smithy? Then ye're goin' thar. Thar's aplace pretty well built all ready for yer. I'll look after things whenye're hid, and send 'em off on the wrong scent. But doggo it's got terbe. Yer must lie as quiet as any mouse."
James led him swiftly from the broken cell and took him to the smithy.At the back, in the open, was a mass of odds and ends of iron.Axletrees, plough-irons, swingle-bars, rods and hoops, and oldhorseshoes galore. The heap was piled high, and leaned against the sideof the smithy. But James was a tidy man, and for a long while hadinsisted on piling his old horseshoes wall-fashion, and in course oftime quite a big wall had been formed.
"Thar's room and plenty for yer," he whispered to Jack, indicating theheap. "Get along in, while I sling a few bars up agin it. And not a wordtill I give the signal, not even if you're starvin'."
Jack crept into the hole, which, by the way, he had never noticed beforein the scrap heap, and James threw a number of bars and hoops up againstthe opening.
"Ter-morrow there'll be shoes and sichlike to sling," he said. "So long,and don't forget it, it's doggo."
Running as fast as possible, James made for the river, and in tenminutes had beaten in the boards of an old dinghy which had once beenPete's, and which was now old and useless. He cut the painter and letthe wreck drift.
"It'll be down ten foot and more in a jiffy," he said, "and in a whileit'll reach the bottom, or get broken up and float away. Anyway, it'llgive 'em a scent. They'll turn to the river, or the far shore."
Satisfied with his labours he retreated to his house, clambered inthrough the window of the bedroom, and presently called loudly for hiswife.
"Wuss," he said as she entered, sitting up and treating her to a broadwink. "It's wuss, that head of mine. Feels like a swollen pertater.Can't think. Can't even sleep. What's the clock?"
"The time? Why, ten," answered Mrs. Orring. "You've been asleep, sure."
"That's likely. I thought it war somewhere's in the neighbourhood ofsevin. Good night!"
James threw himself flat again, and grunted, while Mrs. Orring retired.
"He's been fast asleep all this while, I do believe," she said,addressing Jack's mother, and nodding significantly. "Poor dear, I'veleft him to it!"
Having safely established his alibi, James Orring fell into a deepslumber, and indeed was still snoring heavily when the constableappeared and insisted
on searching the premises.
Indian and Scout: A Tale of the Gold Rush to California Page 3
