The Trail of the Lonesome Pine

by John Fox

  XXIX

  Day broke on the old Court House with its black port-holes, on thegraystone jail, and on a tall topless wooden box to one side, fromwhich projected a cross-beam of green oak. From the centre of this beamdangled a rope that swung gently to and fro when the wind moved.And with the day a flock of little birds lighted on the bars of thecondemned man's cell window, chirping through them, and when the jailerbrought breakfast he found Bad Rufe cowering in the corner of his celland wet with the sweat of fear.

  "Them damn birds ag'in," he growled sullenly.

  "Don't lose yo' nerve, Rufe," said the jailer, and the old laugh ofdefiance came, but from lips that were dry.

  "Not much," he answered grimly, but the jailer noticed that while heate, his eyes kept turning again and again to the bars; and the turnkeywent away shaking his head. Rufe had told the jailer, his one friendthrough whom he had kept in constant communication with the Tollivers,how on the night after the shooting of Mockaby, when he lay down tosleep high on the mountain side and under some rhododendron bushes, aflock of little birds flew in on him like a gust of rain and perchedover and around him, twittering at him until he had to get up and pacethe woods, and how, throughout the next day, when he sat in the sunplanning his escape, those birds would sweep chattering over his headand sweep chattering back again, and in that mood of despair he had saidonce, and only once: "Somehow I knowed this time my name was Dennis"--aphrase of evil prophecy he had picked up outside the hills. And nowthose same birds of evil omen had come again, he believed, right on theheels of the last sworn oath old Judd had sent him that he would neverhang.

  With the day, through mountain and valley, came in converging linesmountain humanity--men and women, boys and girls, children and babesin arms; all in their Sunday best--the men in jeans, slouched hats, andhigh boots, the women in gay ribbons and brilliant home-spun; in wagons,on foot and on horses and mules, carrying man and man, man and boy,lover and sweetheart, or husband and wife and child--all moving throughthe crisp autumn air, past woods of russet and crimson and along browndirt roads, to the straggling little mountain town. A stranger wouldhave thought that a county fair, a camp-meeting, or a circus was theirgoal, but they were on their way to look upon the Court House withits black port-holes, the graystone jail, the tall wooden box, theprojecting beam, and that dangling rope which, when the wind moved,swayed gently to and fro. And Hale had forged his plan. He knew thatthere would be no attempt at rescue until Rufe was led to the scaffold,and he knew that neither Falins nor Tollivers would come in a band, sothe incoming tide found on the outskirts of the town and along everyroad boyish policemen who halted and disarmed every man who carried aweapon in sight, for thus John Hale would have against the pistolsof the factions his own Winchesters and repeating shot-guns. And thewondering people saw at the back windows of the Court House and at thethreatening port-holes more youngsters manning Winchesters, more at thewindows of the jailer's frame house, which joined and fronted the jail,and more still--a line of them--running all around the jail; and theold men wagged their heads in amazement and wondered if, after all, aTolliver was not really going to be hanged.

  So they waited--the neighbouring hills were black with people waiting;the housetops were black with men and boys waiting; the trees in thestreets were bending under the weight of human bodies; and the jail-yardfence was three feet deep with people hanging to it and hanging aboutone another's necks--all waiting. All morning they waited silently andpatiently, and now the fatal noon was hardly an hour away and not aFalin nor a Tolliver had been seen. Every Falin had been disarmed of hisWinchester as he came in, and as yet no Tolliver had entered the town,for wily old Judd had learned of Hale's tactics and had stayed outsidethe town for his own keen purpose. As the minutes passed, Hale wasbeginning to wonder whether, after all, old Judd had come to believethat the odds against him were too great, and had told the truth when heset afoot the rumour that the law should have its way; and it was justwhen his load of anxiety was beginning to lighten that there was alittle commotion at the edge of the Court House and a great red-headedfigure pushed through the crowd, followed by another of like build, andas the people rapidly gave way and fell back, a line of Falins slippedalong the wall and stood under the port-holes-quiet, watchful, anddetermined. Almost at the same time the crowd fell back the other wayup the street, there was the hurried tramping of feet and on came theTollivers, headed by giant Judd, all armed with Winchesters--for oldJudd had sent his guns in ahead--and as the crowd swept like water intoany channel of alley or doorway that was open to it, Hale saw the yardemptied of everybody but the line of Falins against the wall and theTollivers in a body but ten yards in front of them. The people on theroofs and in the trees had not moved at all, for they were out of range.For a moment old Judd's eyes swept the windows and port-holes of theCourt House, the windows of the jailer's house, the line of guards aboutthe jail, and then they dropped to the line of Falins and glared withcontemptuous hate into the leaping blue eyes of old Buck Falin, and forthat moment there was silence. In that silence and as silently as thesilence itself issued swiftly from the line of guards twelve youngsterswith Winchesters, repeating shot-guns, and in a minute six were facingthe Falins and six facing the Tollivers, each with his shot-gun at hiship. At the head of them stood Hale, his face a pale image, as hardas though cut from stone, his head bare, and his hand and his hipweaponless. In all that crowd there was not a man or a woman who had notseen or heard of him, for the power of the guard that was at his backhad radiated through that wild region like ripples of water from adropped stone and, unarmed even, he had a personal power that belongedto no other man in all those hills, though armed to the teeth. His voicerose clear, steady, commanding:

  "The law has come here and it has come to stay." He faced the beetlingeyebrows and angrily working beard of old Judd now:

  "We'll fight you both!", 0370]

  "The Falins are here to get revenge on you Tollivers, if you attack us.I know that. But"--he wheeled on the Falins--"understand! We don't wantyour help! If the Tollivers try to take that man in there, and one ofyou Falins draws a pistol, those guns there"--waving his hand toward thejail windows--"will be turned loose on YOU, WE'LL FIGHT YOU BOTH!" Thelast words shot like bullets through his gritted teeth, then the flashof his eyes was gone, his face was calm, and as though the whole matterhad been settled beyond possible interruption, he finished quietly:

  "The condemned man wishes to make a confession and to say good-by.In five minutes he will be at that window to say what he pleases. Tenminutes later he will be hanged." And he turned and walked calmly intothe jailer's door. Not a Tolliver nor a Falin made a movement or asound. Young Dave's eyes had glared savagely when he first saw Hale, forhe had marked Hale for his own and he knew that the fact was known toHale. Had the battle begun then and there, Hale's death was sure,and Dave knew that Hale must know that as well as he: and yet withmagnificent audacity, there he was--unarmed, personally helpless, andinvested with an insulting certainty that not a shot would be fired. Nota Falin or a Tolliver even reached for a weapon, and the fact was thesubtle tribute that ignorance pays intelligence when the latter isforced to deadly weapons as a last resort; for ignorance faced nowbelching shot-guns and was commanded by rifles on every side. Old Juddwas trapped and the Falins were stunned. Old Buck Falin turned his eyesdown the line of his men with one warning glance. Old Judd whisperedsomething to a Tolliver behind him and a moment later the man slippedfrom the band and disappeared. Young Dave followed Hale's figure with alook of baffled malignant hatred and Bub's eyes were filled with angrytears. Between the factions, the grim young men stood with their gunslike statues.

  At once a big man with a red face appeared at one of the jailer'swindows and then came the sheriff, who began to take out the sash.Already the frightened crowd had gathered closer again and now a hushcame over it, followed by a rustling and a murmur. Something was goingto happen. Faces and gun-muzzles thickened at the port-holes and at thewindows; the line of guards turned their f
aces sidewise and upward;the crowd on the fence scuffled for better positions; the people in thetrees craned their necks from the branches or climbed higher, and therewas a great scraping on all the roofs. Even the black crowd out on thehills seemed to catch the excitement and to sway, while spots of intenseblue and vivid crimson came out here and there from the blackness whenthe women rose from their seats on the ground. Then--sharply--there wassilence. The sheriff disappeared, and shut in by the sashless window asby a picture frame and blinking in the strong light, stood a man withblack hair, cropped close, face pale and worn, and hands that lookedwhite and thin--stood bad Rufe Tolliver.

  He was going to confess--that was the rumour. His lawyers wanted him toconfess; the preacher who had been singing hymns with him all morningwanted him to confess; the man himself said he wanted to confess; andnow he was going to confess. What deadly mysteries he might clear up ifhe would! No wonder the crowd was eager, for there was no soul there butknew his record--and what a record! His best friends put his victims nolower than thirteen, and there looking up at him were three women whomhe had widowed or orphaned, while at one corner of the jail-yard stooda girl in black--the sweetheart of Mockaby, for whose death Rufe wasstanding where he stood now. But his lips did not open. Instead hetook hold of the side of the window and looked behind him. The sheriffbrought him a chair and he sat down. Apparently he was weak and he wasgoing to wait a while. Would he tell how he had killed one Falin in thepresence of the latter's wife at a wild bee tree; how he had killed asheriff by dropping to the ground when the sheriff fired, in this waydodging the bullet and then shooting the officer from where he laysupposedly dead; how he had thrown another Falin out of the Court Housewindow and broken his neck--the Falin was drunk, Rufe always said, andfell out; why, when he was constable, he had killed another--because,Rufe said, he resisted arrest; how and where he had killed Red-neckedJohnson, who was found out in the woods? Would he tell all that andmore? If he meant to tell there was no sign. His lips kept closed andhis bright black eyes were studying the situation; the little squad ofyoungsters, back to back, with their repeating shot-guns, the line ofFalins along the wall toward whom protruded six shining barrels, thehuddled crowd of Tollivers toward whom protruded six more--old Juddtowering in front with young Dave on one side, tense as a leopard aboutto spring, and on the other Bub, with tears streaming down his face. Ina flash he understood, and in that flash his face looked as though hehad been suddenly struck a heavy blow by some one from behind, and thenhis elbows dropped on the sill of the window, his chin dropped intohis hands and a murmur arose. Maybe he was too weak to stand andtalk--perhaps he was going to talk from his chair. Yes, he was leaningforward and his lips were opening, but no sound came. Slowly his eyeswandered around at the waiting people--in the trees, on the roofs andthe fence--and then they dropped to old Judd's and blazed their appealfor a sign. With one heave of his mighty chest old Judd took off hisslouch hat, pressed one big hand to the back of his head and, despitethat blazing appeal, kept it there. At that movement Rufe threw hishead up as though his breath had suddenly failed him, his face turnedsickening white, and slowly again his chin dropped into his tremblinghands, and still unbelieving he stared his appeal, but old Judd droppedhis big hand and turned his head away. The condemned man's mouthtwitched once, settled into defiant calm, and then he did one kindlything. He turned in his seat and motioned Bob Berkley, who was justbehind him, away from the window, and the boy, to humour him,stepped aside. Then he rose to his feet and stretched his arms wide.Simultaneously came the far-away crack of a rifle, and as a jet of smokespurted above a clump of bushes on a little hill, three hundred yardsaway, Bad Rufe wheeled half-way round and fell back out of sight intothe sheriff's arms. Every Falin made a nervous reach for his pistol, theline of gun-muzzles covering them wavered slightly, but the Tolliversstood still and unsurprised, and when Hale dashed from the door again,there was a grim smile of triumph on old Judd's face. He had kept hispromise that Rufe should never hang.

  "Steady there," said Hale quietly. His pistol was on his hip now and aWinchester was in his left hand.

  "Stand where you are--everybody!"

  There was the sound of hurrying feet within the jail. There was theclang of an iron door, the bang of a wooden one, and in five minutesfrom within the tall wooden box came the sharp click of a hatchet andthen--dully:

  "T-H-O-O-MP!" The dangling rope had tightened with a snap and the windswayed it no more.

  At his cell door the Red Fox stood with his watch in his hand and hiseyes glued to the second-hand. When it had gone three times around itscircuit, he snapped the lid with a sigh of relief and turned to hishammock and his Bible.

  "He's gone now," said the Red Fox.

  Outside Hale still waited, and as his eyes turned from the Tolliversto the Falins, seven of the faces among them came back to him withstartling distinctness, and his mind went back to the opening troublein the county-seat over the Kentucky line, years before--when eight menheld one another at the points of their pistols. One face was missing,and that face belonged to Rufe Tolliver. Hale pulled out his watch.

  "Keep those men there," he said, pointing to the Falins, and he turnedto the bewildered Tollivers.

  "Come on, Judd," he said kindly--"all of you."

  Dazed and mystified, they followed him in a body around the corner ofthe jail, where in a coffin, that old Jadd had sent as a blind to hisreal purpose, lay the remains of Bad Rufe Tolliver with a harmlessbullet hole through one shoulder. Near by was a wagon and hitched to itwere two mules that Hale himself had provided. Hale pointed to it:

  "I've done all I could, Judd. Take him away. I'll keep the Falins underguard until you reach the Kentucky line, so that they can't waylay you."

  If old Judd heard, he gave no sign. He was looking down at the face ofhis foster-brother--his shoulder drooped, his great frame shrunken, andhis iron face beaten and helpless. Again Hale spoke:

  "I'm sorry for all this. I'm even sorry that your man was not a bettershot."

  The old man straightened then and with a gesture he motioned young Daveto the foot of the coffin and stooped himself at the head. Past thewagon they went, the crowd giving way before them, and with the deadTolliver on their shoulders, old Judd and young Dave passed with theirfollowers out of sight.