by Bret Harte
tohumanity. The head had fallen back, and was partly hidden in a gopherburrow, but the white, upturned face and closed eyes had less ofhelpless death in them than those wretched enwrappings. Indeed, one limphand that lay across the swollen abdomen lent itself to the grotesquelyhideous suggestion of a gentleman sleeping off the excesses of a heartydinner.
"Ain't he horrid?" continued the girl; "but what killed him?"
Struggling between a certain fascination at the girl's cold-bloodedcuriosity and horror of the murdered man, Cass hesitatingly lifted thehelpless head. A bluish hole above the right temple, and a few brownpaint-like spots on the forehead, shirt cellar, and matted hair provedthe only record.
"Turn him over again," said the girl, impatiently, as Cass was about torelinquish his burden. "May be you'll find another wound."
But Cass was dimly remembering certain formalities that in oldercivilizations attend the discovery of dead bodies, and postponed apresent inquest.
"Perhaps you'd better ride on, Miss, afore you get summoned as awitness. I'll give warning at Red Chief's Crossing, and send the coronerdown here."
"Let me go with you," she said, earnestly, "it would be such fun. Idon't mind being a witness. Or," she added, without heeding Cass's lookof astonishment, "I'll wait here till you come back."
"But you see, Miss, it wouldn't seem right--" began Cass.
"But I found him first," interrupted the girl, with a pout.
Staggered by this preemptive right, sacred to all miners, Cass stopped.
"Who is the coroner?" she asked.
"Joe Hornsby."
"The tall, lame man, who was half eaten by a grizzly?"
"Yes."
"Well, look now! I'll ride on and bring him back in half an hour.There!"
"But, Miss--!"
"Oh, don't mind ME. I never saw anything of this kind before, and I wantto see it ALL."
"Do you know Hornsby?" asked Cass, unconsciously a trifle irritated.
"No, but I'll bring him." She wheeled her horse into the road.
In the presence of this living energy Cass quite forgot the helplessdead. "Have you been long in these parts, Miss?" he asked.
"About two weeks," she answered, shortly. "Good-by, just now. Lookaround for the pistol or anything else you can find, although I havebeen over the whole ground twice already."
A little puff of dust as the horse sprang into the road, a muffledshuffle, struggle, then the regular beat of hoofs, and she was gone.
After five minutes had passed, Cass regretted that he had notaccompanied her; waiting in such a spot was an irksome task. Not thatthere was anything in the scene itself to awaken gloomy imaginings;the bright, truthful Californian sunshine scoffed at any illusion ofcreeping shadows or waving branches. Once, in the rising wind, the emptyhat rolled over--but only in a ludicrous, drunken way. A search for anyfurther sign or token had proved futile, and Cass grew impatient. Hebegan to hate himself for having stayed; he would have fled but forshame. Nor was his good humor restored when at the close of a weary halfhour two galloping figures emerged from the dusty horizon--Hornsby andthe young girl.
His vague annoyance increased as he fancied that both seemed to ignorehim, the coroner barely acknowledging his presence with a nod. Assistedby the young girl, whose energy and enthusiasm evidently delighted him,Hornsby raised the body for a more careful examination. The dead man'spockets were carefully searched. A few coins, a silver pencil, knife,and tobacco-box were all they found. It gave no clew to his identity.Suddenly the young girl, who had, with unabashed curiosity, kneltbeside the exploring official hands of the Red Chief, uttered a cry ofgratification.
"Here's something! It dropped from the bosom of his shirt on the ground.Look!"
She was holding in the air, between her thumb and forefinger, a foldedbit of well-worn newspaper. Her eyes sparkled.
"Shall I open it?" she asked.
"Yes."
"It's a little ring" she said; "looks like an engagement ring. Somethingis written on it. Look! 'May to Cass.'"
Cass darted forward. "It's mine," he stammered, "mine! I dropped it.It's nothing--nothing," he went on, after a pause, embarrassed andblushing, as the girl and her companion both stared at him--"a meretrifle. I'll take it."
But the coroner opposed his outstretched hand. "Not much," he said,significantly.
"But it's MINE," continued Cass, indignation taking the place of shameat his discovered secret. "I found it six months ago in the road.I--picked it up."
"With your name already written on it! How handy!" said the coroner,grimly.
"It's an old story" said Cass, blushing again under thehalf-mischievous, half-searching eyes of the girl. "All Blazing Starknows I found it."
"Then ye'll have no difficulty in provin' it," said Hornsby, coolly."Just now, however, WE'VE found it, and we propose to keep it for theinquest."
Cass shrugged his shoulders. Further altercation would have onlyheightened his ludicrous situation in the girl's eyes. He turned away,leaving his treasure in the coroner's hands.
The inquest, a day or two later, was prompt and final. No clew to thedead man's identity; no evidence sufficiently strong to prove murder orsuicide; no trace of any kind, inculpating any party, known orunknown, were found. But much publicity and interest were given to theproceedings by the presence of the principal witness, a handsome girl."To the pluck, persistency, and intellect of Miss Porter," said the "RedChief Recorder," "Tuolumne County owes the recovery of the body."
No one who was present at the inquest failed to be charmed with theappearance and conduct of this beautiful young lady.
"Miss Porter has but lately arrived in this district, in which, itis hoped, she will become an honored resident, and continue to set anexample to all lackadaisical and sentimental members of the so-called'sterner sex.'" After this universally recognized allusion to CassBeard, the "Recorder" returned to its record: "Some interest was excitedby what appeared to be a clew to the mystery in the discovery of a smallgold engagement ring on the body. Evidence was afterward offered to showit was the property of a Mr. Cass Beard of Blazing Star, who appearedupon the scene AFTER the discovery of the corpse by Miss Porter. Healleged he had dropped it in lifting the unfortunate remains of thedeceased. Much amusement was created in court by the sentimentalconfusion of the claimant, and a certain partisan spirit shown by hisfellow-miners of Blazing Star. It appearing, however, by the admissionof this sighing Strephon of the Foot hills, that he had himself FOUNDthis pledge of affection lying in the highway six months previous, thecoroner wisely placed it in the safe-keeping of the county court untilthe appearance of the rightful owner."
Thus on the 13th of September, 186-, the treasure found at Blazing Starpassed out of the hands of its finder.
*****
Autumn brought an abrupt explanation of the mystery. Kanaka Joe had beenarrested for horse stealing, but had with noble candor confessed tothe finer offense of manslaughter. That swift and sure justice whichovertook the horse stealer in these altitudes was stayed a moment andhesitated, for the victim was clearly the mysterious unknown. Curiositygot the better of an extempore judge and jury.
"It was a fair fight," said the accused, not without some human vanity,feeling that the camp hung upon his words, "and was settled by theman az was peartest and liveliest with his weapon. We had a sort ofunpleasantness over at Lagrange the night afore, along of our bothhevin' a monotony of four aces. We had a clinch and a stamp around, andwhen we was separated it was only a question of shootin' on sight. Heleft Lagrange at sun up the next morning, and I struck across a bit o'buckeye and underbrush and came upon him, accidental like, on the RedChief Road. I drawed when I sighted him, and called out. He slipped fromhis mare and covered himself with her flanks, reaching for his holster,but she rared and backed down on him across the road and into the grass,where I got in another shot and fetched him."
"And you stole his mare?" suggested the Judge.
"I got away," said the gambler, simply.
Furt
her questioning only elicited the fact that Joe did not know thename or condition of his victim. He was a stranger in Lagrange.
It was a breezy afternoon, with some turbulency in the camp, and muchwindy discussion over this unwonted delay of justice. The suggestionthat Joe should be first hanged for horse stealing and then tried formurder was angrily discussed, but milder counsels were offered--thatthe fact of the killing should be admitted only as proof of the theft.A large party from Red Chief had come over to assist in judgment, amongthem the coroner.
Cass Beard had avoided these