CHAPTER XXIII
LIBERTY
Sleep had brought me a brief forgetfulness, but the awakening was notpleasant when I painfully straightened my limbs on the jolting platform,while the twin whistles shrieked ahead. Every joint ached from theprevious day's exertions, my borrowed garments were clammy with dew, andI shivered in the cold draught that swept past the slowing cars. The sunhad not cleared the grayness which veiled the east, and, frowned downupon by huge elevators which rose higher and higher against a loweringsky, the straggling town loomed up depressingly out of the surroundingdesolation. The pace grew slower, a thicket of willows choked with emptycans and garbage slid by, then the rails of the stockyards closed in oneach hand, and we jolted over the switches into the station, which wasbuilt, as usual, not in, but facing, the prairie town.
There was no sign of life in its ill-paved streets, down which the dustwisps danced; bare squares of wooden buildings, devoid of allornamentation, save for glaring advertisements which emphasized theirugliness, walled them in, and the whole place seemed stamped with thedreariness which characterizes most prairie towns when seen early on agloomy morning by anybody not in the best of spirits. Myfellow-passengers were apparently asleep, but I was the better pleased,having no desire for speech, and I dropped from the platform as soon asthe locomotive stopped. Hurrying out of the station, I did not turnaround until a row of empty farm wagons hid the track, which action wasnot without results.
One hotel door stood open, but knowing that its tariff was not inaccordance with my finances, I passed it by and patrolled the emptystreets until the others, or a dry goods store, should make ready forbusiness. One of the latter did so first, and when I entered a mirrorshowed that the decision was not unnecessary. The borrowed jacket wasfar too small, the vest as much too large, while somebody's collar cutchokingly into my sunburnt neck. Still, the prices the sleepy clerkmentioned were prohibitive, and after wasting a little time in somewhatpointed argument--of which he had the better--I strode out of the store,struggling with an inclination to assault him. Western storekeepers areseldom characterized by superfluous civility, and there aredisadvantages attached to a life in a country so free that, according toone of its sayings, any man who cannot purchase boots may always walkbarefooted.
"I don't know what the outfit you've got on cost you, and shouldn'twonder, by the way it fits, if you got it cheap," he said. "We don'tturn out our customers like scarecrows, anyway, and if you'd had themoney we would have tried to make a decent show of you."
I was nevertheless able, after almost emptying my purse, to replace atleast the vest and jacket at a rival establishment, whose proprietorpromised to forward the borrowed articles to their legitimate owners. Iafterwards discovered that they never received them.
"You look smart as a city drummer, the top half of you, but it makes therest look kind of mean. You want to live up to that coat," he said,after a critical survey.
"I can't do it at the price, unless you will take your chances ofgetting paid when the stock go East," I said; and the dealer shook hishead sorrowfully.
"We don't trade that way with strangers, and I don't know you."
I was in a reckless mood, and some puerile impulse prompted me toastonish him. "My name is Henry Ormesby!"
The man positively gasped, and then, with Western keenness, prepared toprofit by the opportunity. "I'll fit you out all for nothing if you'llwalk round to the photographer's and give me your picture with a noticeto stick in the window that you think my things the best in town," hesaid. "It would be worth money every time the prairie boys come in, andI don't mind throwing a little of it into the bargain."
This was exasperating, but I could not restrain a mirthless laugh; and,leaving the enterprising dealer astonished that any man should refusesuch an offer, I hurried out of the store; but by the time the breakfasthour arrived all trace of even sardonic humor had left me. It was withdifficulty I had raised sufficient ready money for the journey, andthere now remained but two or three silver coins in my pocket, while,remembering that the dealer had been justified in pointing out thedesirability of a complete renovation, I reflected gloomily that itwould be useless, because, in all probability, the nation would shortlyfeed and clothe me. I also remembered how I had seen men with heavychains on their ankles road-making before the public gaze in a BritishColumbian town.
Meanwhile I was very hungry, and presently sat down to a simplebreakfast in a crowded room. While waiting a few minutes my eyes fell ona commercial article in a newspaper, which, while noting a revival oftrade, deplored the probable abandonment of much needed railroadextension. The writer appeared well posted, and mentioned the road wehoped so much from as one of the works which would not be undertaken. Ilaid down the journal with a sigh, and noticed that the men about mewere discussing the coming trial.
"I expect they'll send Ormesby up," said one man, between his rapidgulps. "Don't know whether he done it, but he threatened the otherfellow, and said he'd see him roasted before he helped; while thatmatch-box would fix most anybody up."
"Well, I don't know," observed a neighbor. "The match-box looks bad; butI guess if I'd been burning a place up I shouldn't have forgotten it.Still, it might be fatal unless he could disown it. As to the otherthing, I don't count much on what he said. A real fire-bug would havekept his mouth shut and helped all he was worth instead of sayinganything."
"I'm offering five to one he goes up. Any takers?" said the firstspeaker; and it was significant that, although most Westerners are keenat a bet, nobody offered.
"I'd do it for less, 'cept for the match-box," said one.
I managed to finish my breakfast, feeling thankful that--because (sotheir appearance suggested) those who sat at meat had driven in from theprairie to enjoy the spectacle--none of them recognized me. The odds, intheir opinion, were more than five to one against me, and I agreed withthem. Slipping out I found Dixon, and reported my presence to thepolice; and, after what seemed an endless waiting at the court, it wasearly afternoon when Dixon said to me: "They'll be ready in fiveminutes, and I want you to keep a tight rein on your temper, Ormesby. Ican do all the fancy talking that is necessary. You can keep your heartup, too. There are going to be surprises for everyone to-day."
I was called in a few minutes, and if the court had been thronged onprevious occasions, it was packed to suffocation now. It was a bare,ugly, wood-built room, even dirtier than it was dingy. Neither is thereanything impressive, save, perhaps, to the culprit, about theadministration of Western justice, and I was thankful for a lethargywhich helped me to bear the suspense with outward indifference. Nothingstriking marked the first part of the proceedings, and I sat listeningto the drawl of voices like one in a dream. Some of the spectatorsyawned, and some fidgeted, until there was a sudden stir of interest asthe name "Thomas Wilkins" rang through the court.
"I guess that's the prosecution's trump ace," said a man beneath me.
I became suddenly intent as this witness took his stand. He was of theusual type of Canadian-born farm hand, bronzed and wiry, but not heavilybuilt, and hazarded what I fancied was a meaning glance at me. I couldnot understand it, for he seemed at once ashamed and exultant.
"I was hired by Rancher Niven to help him at Gaspard's Trail, andremember the night of the fire well. Guess anybody who'd been trod on bya horse and left with broken bones to roast would," he said; andproceeded to confirm Niven's testimony. This was nothing new, and theinterest slackened, but revived again when the witness approached theessential part of his story, and I could hear my own heart thumping moreplainly than the slow drawling voice.
"I was round at the wreck of the homestead some time after the fire.Don't know the date, but Niven made a note of it. Kind of precise man hewas. The place wasn't all burnt to the ground, and Niven he crawls inunder some fallen logs into what had been the kitchen. The door openedright on to the prairie, and anybody could slip in if they wanted to.Niven grabbed at something on the floor. 'Come along and take a look atthis,' says he; and
I saw it was a silver match-box he held up. Therewas 'H. Ormesby' not quite worn off it. Niven he prospects some more,and finds a flattened coal-oil tin. Yes, sir, those you are holding upare the very things. 'We don't use that brand of oil, and buy ours inbigger cans,' says he."
I could see by the spectators' faces it was damaging testimony, andDixon's serene appearance was incomprehensible, while, for the benefitof those ignorant of Western customs, it may be explained that keroseneis sold in large square tins for the settler's convenience in severalparts of the Dominion.
"I went over to the store with Niven next day," continued the witness."The man who kept it allowed that Rancher Ormesby was about the only manhe sold that brand to in small cans."
There were signs of subdued sensation, and Wilkins continued: "We gavethem both to Sergeant Mackay, and by-and-by I was summoned to come hereand testify. I came right along; then it struck me it was mean to helpin sending up the man who'd saved my life. So I just lit out and hidmyself until the police trailed me."
It was news to hear that Lane had no hand in the witness'sdisappearance; and again he flashed an apparently wholly unwarranted,reassuring glance in my direction. Then, while I wondered hopelesslywhether Dixon could shake his testimony, the latter stood up.
"I purpose to ask Thomas Wilkins a few questions later, and will nottrouble him about the match-box, being perfectly satisfied as to theaccuracy of the facts he states," he said.
I could see the spectators stare at him in surprise, and, wondering ifhe had lost his senses, settled myself to listen as the storekeeperdeposed to selling me oil of the description mentioned, addingreluctantly that very few others took the same size of can. This, and alengthy speech, closed the prosecutor's case, and it seemed, when he hadfinished, that nothing short of a miracle could save me. The audiencewas also evidently of the same opinion.
Dixon commenced feebly by submitting evidence as to my uprightness ofcharacter, which his opponent allowed to pass unchallenged with asomewhat contemptuous indifference. Then he said: "It will be rememberedthat in his evidence Sergeant Mackay deposed that the witness Niven toldhim the burning homestead was not insured, and I will call the Westernagent of a famous fire office."
The evidence of the gentleman in question was brief and to the point. "Ihave heard the statement that Gaspard's Trail was not insured, and can'tunderstand it. The witness Niven took out a policy three months beforethe fire, and sent in his claim straight off to me. The company declinedto meet it until this case was settled. Am I quite certain, or can Ioffer any explanation? Well, here's our premium receipt foil and recordof the policy. Can't suggest any explanation, except that somebody islying."
This was received with some sensation, and Dixon smiled at me as ifthere were more in store. "You will observe that the witness Nivencannot be considered a very truthful person. I will recall ThomasWilkins," he said.
Wilkins had lost his shamefacedness when he reappeared. "I said theprisoner saved my life, and meant just that," he said, answering aquestion. "It was he who took me out of the fire, and I had sense enoughto see he was leading the boys who saved all Niven's horses. It's myopinion--you don't want opinions? Well, I'll try to pitch in the solidfacts."
"Your master went East for a few days before the fire and brought a caseof groceries home with him," said Dixon. "Will you tell us if you openedthat case?"
"I did," was the answer. "He sent me into the station for it with thecheck. Said our storekeeper was a robber, and he'd saved money by buyingdown East. It was a blame heavy case, so I started to open it in thewagon, and had just pulled the top off when Niven came along."
"Did you see anything except groceries in it?" asked Dixon; and therewas a stirring in the court when Wilkins answered: "I did. I had lit onto the top of three coal-oil tins when the boss came in."
"Did he look pleased at your diligence?"
"No, sir. He looked real mad. 'If you'll do what you're asked to withoutmixing up my private things it will be good enough for me. Get yourhorses fixed right now,' he said."
"You are sure about the oil tins? Were they large or small--and did youever see them or the groceries again?"
"Dead sure," was the answer. "I stowed the groceries in the kitchen, butnever saw the oil. It was a smaller size than we used, any way. Didn'tthink much about it until I read a paper about this trial not long ago.Begin to think a good deal now."
I drew in a deep breath, and the movements of expectant listeners grewmore audible when, reminded that his impressions were not asked for,Wilkins stepped down. Hope was beginning to dawn, for I could see thatDixon was on the trail of a conspiracy. Everybody seemed eager, theprosecutor as much so as the rest, and there was a deep silence whenDixon folded up the paper on which he had been making notes.
"My next witness is Miss Lucille Haldane, of Bonaventure," he said.
There was a low murmur, every head was turned in the same direction, andI grew hot with shame and indignation when Haldane's younger daughterwalked into the witness stand. It seemed to me a desecration that sheshould be dragged forward into an atmosphere of crime as part of thespectacle before a sea of curious faces, and I had never felt theenforced restraint so horribly oppressive as when I read admiration insome of them. Had it been possible to wither up Dixon with a glance itis hardly likely that he would ever have handled a case again. The girllooked very young and pretty as, with a patch of almost hectic color ineach cheek, and a brightness in her eyes, she took her place. She woreno veil, and held herself proudly as, without sign of weakness, shelooked down at the assembly. While she did so there was, withoutarticulate sound, something that suggested wonder and approval in theuniversal movement, and I heard a man beneath me say: "She's a daisy.Now we're coming right into the business end of the play."
"You know the prisoner, Ormesby?" asked Dixon; and though her voice waslow, its clear distinctness seemed to permeate the building as sheanswered: "I do. He is a friend of my father's, and visited us atBonaventure occasionally."
"Did you ever see a silver match-box in his possession, and, if so,could you describe it?"
"I did, on several occasions. He wore it hooked on to his watch-chain,and once handed it to me to light a lamp with. It had an oak-leafengraving with a partly obliterated inscription--'From ---- to H.Ormesby.'"
"I think that is an accurate description," said Dixon; and when thejudge, who held up a little silver object and passed it on to the jury,signified assent, I glanced in savage bewilderment at the speaker. Ithad appeared shameful cruelty to hale that delicate girl into a crowdedcourt; now it also appeared sheer madness. She never once glanced in mydirection, but stood with head erect, one hand resting on the rails,where the pitiless sunlight beat full upon her, with eyes fixed only onthe judge; but in spite of her courage I could see that her lipstrembled, while the little gloved fingers tightened spasmodically on therails. Then I hung my head for very shame that I had been the unwittingcause of such an ordeal, feeling that I would prefer to suffer tenconvictions rather than that she should become a subject for discussionin every saloon, and the free commentary of the Western press, even ifshe could have saved me.
"When did you last see the match-box?" asked Dixon.
"On the morning of the Wednesday in the third week after the fire. I amsure of the day, because the visit of some friends from Montrealimpressed it on my memory. Henry Ormesby had stayed all night atBonaventure and left early in the morning. A maid brought me thematch-box, which she had found on the bureau, with one or two articlesof clothing; and as he did not return I told her to slip the match-boxinside the packet and forward them. I forgot the incident until thetrial recalled it."
As Lucille ceased it flashed upon me that I had wondered how thematch-box had made its way into a pocket in which I never carried it.Then I was borne down by a great wave of gratitude to the girl who, itseemed, had saved me. She was rigorously cross-examined, and, while I donot know whether the prosecutor exceeded due limits in his efforts toshake her evidence, I grew murderous
ly inclined towards him as I noticedhow his victim's color came and went, and the effort it cost her not toshrink under the questions. But her courage rose with the emergency, andwhen the indignation crept into her eyes there was several times subduedapplause as her answer to some innuendo carried a rebuke with it.
At last the approbation was no more subdued, but swelled into a hoarsemurmur which filled all the court when she drew herself up at thequestion: "And it was because you were a firm friend of the prisoner'syou recollected all this so opportunely, and, in spite of thediffidence any lady in your position would feel, volunteered to giveevidence?"
The damask patch had spread to Lucille Haldane's forehead, but insteadof being downcast her eyes were filled with light. "No," she said; andthe vibration in her voice had a steely ring. "It was because I am aCanadian, and accordingly desired to see justice done to an innocentman. Can you consider such a desire either uncommon or surprising?"
A full minute had elapsed before the case proceeded, during which anexcitable juryman rose and seemed on the point of haranguing theassembly until a comrade dragged him down. Then laughter broke throughthe murmurs as he gesticulated wildly amid shouts of "Order."
A Scandinavian domestic quaintly corroborated her mistress's statement,and there was no doubt that the scale was turned; but Dixon did notleave his work half-completed, and the next witness confirmed thisevidence.
"I keep the Railroad Hotel. It's not a saloon, but a hotel, with a bigH," he said. "Know Harry Ormesby well. Saw him about three weeks afterthe fire lighting a cigar I gave him from a silver match-box. Oh, yes,I'm quite sure about the box; had several times seen the thing before.Was pretty busy when the boys started smoking round the stove aftersupper, and forgot to pick up something bright beneath Ormesby's chair.Was going to tell him he'd dropped his box, when somebody called me. Theboys cleared out when the cars came in, and I saw Niven among them. Knewhim as a customer--don't want to as a friend. Got too much of the coyoteabout him. My Chinaman was turning out the lights when I saw somebodyslip back quietly. He grabbed at something by the chair, and went out bythe other door. There was only a light in the passage left, and I didn'tquite recognize him. Could swear it wasn't Ormesby, and think he wasmore like Niven. Asked Niven about it afterwards, and he said it wasn'the; didn't see Ormesby, but wired his lawyer when I'd read the papers.Don't believe Ormesby had enough malice in him to burn up a hen-house."
There were further signs of sensation, and Sergeant Mackay was calledagain. He had ridden over to Gaspard's Trail the day following the fire,and decided to clear out the refuse dump, he said. Then the wholeaudience grinned, when, being asked why he did so, he glanced at thejury as if for sympathy, answering: "I was thinking I might findsomething inside it. A man must do his duty, but it was a sairlydistressful operation." He found two unopened coal-oil tins resemblingthe flattened one, and was certain by the appearance of the dump theyhad been placed there some time before the fire.
There was no further evidence. Dixon said very little, but that littletold. The jury had scarcely retired before one of them reappeared, and,with a rush of blood to my forehead and a singing in my ears, I caughtthe words--"Not guilty!"
Then, when the judge, and even the prosecuting counsel, said he fullyconcurred, the murmurs swelled until they filled the court again; andpresently I was standing outside, a free man, in the center of anexcited crowd, for Western citizens are desperately fond of anysensation. How many cigars and offers of liquid refreshment were thrustupon me I do not remember, but they were overwhelmingly numerous, and Iwas grateful when Dixon came to the rescue.
"Mr. Ormesby is much obliged to you, gentlemen, but it's quiet he wantsjust now," he said; while we had hardly reached the leading hotel whereDixon led me than there was a clamor in the direction of the court, andI looked at him inquiringly.
"I expect they've issued a warrant for Niven on a charge of conspiracyor arson, and the boys have heard of it," he said. "However, I have hadsufficient professional occupation for to-day, and we're going to getsupper and afterwards enjoy ourselves as we can."
I had, nevertheless, determined to thank my benefactress first, and,ignoring Dixon's advice, sent up my name. I was informed that MissHaldane would receive nobody, and the lawyer smiled dryly when Ireturned crestfallen. "I don't think you need feel either hurt orsurprised," he said.
The inhabitants of the prairie towns differ from the taciturn plainsmenin being vociferously enthusiastic and mercurial, and to my disgust thecitizens came in groups to interview me, while one, who shoved his wayinto our quarters by main force, said the rest would take it kindly if Imade a speech to them.
"You can tell them I feel honored, but nobody can charge me with everhaving done such a thing in my life," I said; and the representatives ofthe populace retired, to find another outlet for their energies, as wepresently discovered.
"I owe my escape solely to a lady's courage and your skill, Dixon; butwhy didn't you try to implicate Lane?" I said; and the lawyer laughed.
"Any reasonable man ought to be satisfied with the verdict anddemonstration. It would have been difficult, if not useless, while Ifancy that if Lane is allowed a little more rope his time will shortlycome," he said. "Hallo! Here are more enthusiastic citizens desirous ofinterviewing you."
"Keep them out for heaven's sake," I said; but before Dixon could securethe door Sergeant Mackay strode in.
"I have come to congratulate ye. It will be a lesson til ye, Ormesby,"he announced.
I did not see the hand he held out. "I'm in no mood for sermons, andcan't appreciate your recent actions as they perhaps deserve," I said;and the sergeant's eyes twinkled mischievously.
"It should not be that difficult; and ye have the consolation that weserved the State," he said. "It was in the interests of justicewe--well--we made use of ye to stalk the other man."
"There's no use pretending I'm grateful," I commenced; but Dixon brokeinto a boisterous laugh, and the sergeant's face grew so humorous thatmy own relaxed and we made friends again. The reunion had not long beenconsummated when a rattle of wheels, followed by the tramp of many feetand the wheezy strains of a cornet, rose from below, and, striding tothe window, I said with dismay: "Lock the door. They're coming with aband and torches now."
"I'm thinking ye need not," said Mackay dryly. "It's a farewell to MissHaldane they're giving."
We gathered at the opened window, looking down at a striking spectacle.A vehicle stood waiting, and behind it, lighted by the glow of kerosenetorches, a mass of faces filled the street. The heads were uncoveredalmost simultaneously, and Lucille Haldane appeared upon the hotelsteps, with her attendants behind her. At first she shrank back a littlefrom the gaze of the admiring crowd, to whom her spirit and beauty haddoubtless appealed; but when one of them urged something veryrespectfully, with his hat in his hand, she moved forward a pace andstood very erect, a slight but queenly figure, looking down at them.
"I am honored, gentlemen," she said falteringly, though her voice gainedstrength. "It was merely a duty I did, but I am gratified that itpleased you, just because it shows that all of us are proud of ourcountry and eager, for its credit, to crush oppression and see justicedone to the downtrodden."
The street rang with the cheer that followed, and when Dixon seized hishat the action was infectious. The next minute we were moving forwardamid the ranks of the enthusiastic crowd behind the vehicle, whichjolted slowly towards the station; and I discovered later that theuncomfortable sensation at the back of my neck was caused by the hot oilfrom a torch, which dripped upon it. In the meantime I noticed nothingbut the sea of faces, the tramp of feet, and the final burst of cheeringat the station, in which Mackay, holding aloft his forage cap, joinedvociferously.
"It's only fit and proper. She's as good and brave as she's bonny," hesaid.
The Mistress of Bonaventure Page 23
