by John Fox
XXVI
Back to the passing of Boone and the landing of Columbus no man, in thatregion, had ever been hanged. And as old Judd said, no Tolliver had everbeen sentenced and no jury of mountain men, he well knew, could befound who would convict a Tolliver, for there were no twelve men inthe mountains who would dare. And so the Tollivers decided to await theoutcome of the trial and rest easy. But they did not count on the mettleand intelligence of the grim young "furriners" who were a flying wedgeof civilization at the Gap. Straightway, they gave up the practice oflaw and banking and trading and store-keeping and cut port-holes in thebrick walls of the Court House and guarded town and jail night and day.They brought their own fearless judge, their own fearless jury andtheir own fearless guard. Such an abstract regard for law and order themountaineer finds a hard thing to understand. It looked as though themotive of the Guard was vindictive and personal, and old Judd was almoststifled by the volcanic rage that daily grew within him as the toilsdaily tightened about Rufe Tolliver.
Every happening the old man learned through the Red Fox, who, with hishuge pistols, was one of the men who escorted Rufe to and from CourtHouse and jail--a volunteer, Hale supposed, because he hated Rufe;and, as the Tollivers supposed, so that he could keep them advised ofeverything that went on, which he did with secrecy and his own peculiarfaith. And steadily and to the growing uneasiness of the Tollivers, thelaw went its way. Rufe had proven that he was at the Gap all day and hadtaken no part in the trouble. He produced a witness--the mountain loutwhom Hale remembered--who admitted that he had blown the whistle, giventhe yell, and fired the pistol shot. When asked his reason, the witness,who was stupid, had none ready, looked helplessly at Rufe and finallymumbled--"fer fun." But it was plain from the questions that Rufehad put to Hale only a few minutes before the shooting, and from thehesitation of the witness, that Rufe had used him for a tool. So thetestimony of the latter that Mockaby without even summoning Rufe tosurrender had fired first, carried no conviction. And yet Rufe hadno trouble making it almost sure that he had never seen the dead manbefore--so what was his motive? It was then that word reached the earof the prosecuting attorney of the only testimony that could establish amotive and make the crime a hanging offence, and Court was adjourned fora day, while he sent for the witness who could give it. That afternoonone of the Falins, who had grown bolder, and in twos and threes werealways at the trial, shot at a Tolliver on the edge of town and therewas an immediate turmoil between the factions that the Red Fox had beenwaiting for and that suited his dark purposes well.
That very night, with his big rifle, he slipped through the woods to aturn of the road, over which old Dave Tolliver was to pass next morning,and built a "blind" behind some rocks and lay there smoking peacefullyand dreaming his Swedenborgian dreams. And when a wagon came round theturn, driven by a boy, and with the gaunt frame of old Dave Tolliverlying on straw in the bed of it, his big rifle thundered and thefrightened horses dashed on with the Red Fox's last enemy, lifeless.Coolly he slipped back to the woods, threw the shell from his gun,tirelessly he went by short cuts through the hills, and at noon,benevolent and smiling, he was on guard again.
The little Court Room was crowded for the afternoon session. Inside therailing sat Rufe Tolliver, white and defiant--manacled. Leaning on therailing, to one side, was the Red Fox with his big pistols, his goodprofile calm, dreamy, kind--to the other, similarly armed, was Hale.At each of the gaping port-holes, and on each side of the door, stooda guard with a Winchester, and around the railing outside were severalmore. In spite of window and port-hole the air was close and heavy withthe smell of tobacco and the sweat of men. Here and there in the crowdwas a red Falin, but not a Tolliver was in sight, and Rufe Tolliver satalone. The clerk called the Court to order after the fashion since thedays before Edward the Confessor--except that he asked God to save acommonwealth instead of a king--and the prosecuting attorney rose:
"Next witness, may it please your Honour": and as the clerk got tohis feet with a slip of paper in his hand and bawled out a name, Halewheeled with a thumping heart. The crowd vibrated, turned heads, gaveway, and through the human aisle walked June Tolliver with the sherifffollowing meekly behind. At the railing-gate she stopped, head uplifted,face pale and indignant; and her eyes swept past Hale as if he wereno more than a wooden image, and were fixed with proud inquiry on theJudge's face. She was bare-headed, her bronze hair was drawn low overher white brow, her gown was of purple home-spun, and her right hand wasclenched tight about the chased silver handle of a riding whip, andin eyes, mouth, and in every line of her tense figure was the mutequestion: "Why have you brought _me_ here?"
"Why have you brought me here?", 0342]
"Here, please," said the Judge gently, as though he were about to answerthat question, and as she passed Hale she seemed to swerve her skirtsaside that they might not touch him.
"Swear her."
June lifted her right hand, put her lips to the soiled, old, black Bibleand faced the jury and Hale and Bad Rufe Tolliver whose black eyes neverleft her face.
"What is your name?" asked a deep voice that struck her ears asfamiliar, and before she answered she swiftly recalled that she hadheard that voice speaking when she entered the door.
"June Tolliver."
"Your age?"
"Eighteen."
"You live--"
"In Lonesome Cove."
"You are the daughter of--"
"Judd Tolliver."
"Do you know the prisoner?"
"He is my foster-uncle."
"Were you at home on the night of August the tenth?"
"I was."
"Have you ever heard the prisoner express any enmity against thisvolunteer Police Guard?" He waved his hand toward the men at theportholes and about the railing--unconsciously leaving his hand directlypointed at Hale. June hesitated and Rufe leaned one elbow on the table,and the light in his eyes beat with fierce intensity into the girl'seyes into which came a curious frightened look that Hale remembered--thesame look she had shown long ago when Rufe's name was mentioned in theold miller's cabin, and when going up the river road she had put herchildish trust in him to see that her bad uncle bothered her no more.Hale had never forgot that, and if it had not been absurd he would havestopped the prisoner from staring at her now. An anxious look had comeinto Rufe's eyes--would she lie for him?
"Never," said June. Ah, she would--she was a Tolliver and Rufe took abreath of deep content.
"You never heard him express any enmity toward the Police Guard--beforethat night?"
"I have answered that question," said June with dignity and Rufe'slawyer was on his feet.
"Your Honour, I object," he said indignantly.
"I apologize," said the deep voice--"sincerely," and he bowed to June.Then very quietly:
"What was the last thing you heard the prisoner say that afternoon whenhe left your father's house?"
It had come--how well she remembered just what he had said and how, thatnight, even when she was asleep, Rufe's words had clanged like a bell inher brain--what her awakening terror was when she knew that the deed wasdone and the stifling fear that the victim might be Hale. Swiftly hermind worked--somebody had blabbed, her step-mother, perhaps, and whatRufe had said had reached a Falin ear and come to the relentless man infront of her. She remembered, too, now, what the deep voice was sayingas she came into the door:
"There must be deliberation, a malicious purpose proven to make theprisoner's crime a capital offence--I admit that, of course, yourHonour. Very well, we propose to prove that now," and then she hadheard her name called. The proof that was to send Rufe Tolliver to thescaffold was to come from her--that was why she was there. Her lipsopened and Rufe's eyes, like a snake's, caught her own again and heldthem.
"He said he was going over to the Gap--"
There was a commotion at the door, again the crowd parted, and intowered giant Judd Tolliver, pushing people aside as though they werestraws, his bushy hair wild and his great frame shaking fro
m head tofoot with rage.
"You went to my house," he rumbled hoarsely--glaring at Hale--"an' tookmy gal thar when I wasn't at home--you--"
"Order in the Court," said the Judge sternly, but already at a signalfrom Hale several guards were pushing through the crowd and old Juddsaw them coming and saw the Falins about him and the Winchesters at theport-holes, and he stopped with a hard gulp and stood looking at June.
"Repeat his exact words," said the deep voice again as calmly as thoughnothing had happened.
"He said, 'I'm goin' over to the Gap--'" and still Rufe's black eyesheld her with mesmeric power--would she lie for him--would she lie forhim?
It was a terrible struggle for June. Her father was there, her uncleDave was dead, her foster-uncle's life hung on her next words and shewas a Tolliver. Yet she had given her oath, she had kissed the sacredBook in which she believed from cover to cover with her whole heart,and she could feel upon her the blue eyes of a man for whom a lie wasimpossible and to whom she had never stained her white soul with a wordof untruth.
"Yes," encouraged the deep voice kindly.
Not a soul in the room knew where the struggle lay--not even thegirl--for it lay between the black eyes of Rufe Tolliver and the blueeyes of John Hale.
"Yes," repeated the deep voice again. Again, with her eyes on Rufe, sherepeated:
"'I'm goin' over to the Gap--'" her face turned deadly white, sheshivered, her dark eyes swerved suddenly full on Hale and she saidslowly and distinctly, yet hardly above a whisper:
"'TO KILL ME A POLICEMAN.'"
"That will do," said the deep voice gently, and Hale started towardher--she looked so deadly sick and she trembled so when she tried torise; but she saw him, her mouth steadied, she rose, and without lookingat him, passed by his outstretched hand and walked slowly out of theCourt Room.