The Cave of Gold

E >> Everett McNeil >> The Cave of Gold

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"You may return to your place by the side of the sheriff," and the
alcalde gave an almost audible sigh of relief, while something very near
like a cheer came from the crowd. It was hard to look into those two
young clear-eyed faces and believe that they masked the hearts of
murderers.

Bud hurried back to his place by the side of the sheriff, with the first
smile on his lips that had so far brightened his face during the trial.

"Now," and the alcalde turned to Thure, "let the jury compare the button
with the buttons on your clothing," and the anxious look came back on
his face.

Thure, with the same promptness and confidence that Bud had displayed,
advanced and submitted to the examination; but, hardly had he reached
the foreman of the jury, when the excited actions of the jurymen told
all that an important discovery of some kind had been made; and their
report was awaited with almost breathless interest.

"We find," began the foreman, speaking slowly, after every man on the
jury had carefully compared the button Quinley had handed to the alcalde
with the buttons on Thure's coat, "one button missing from the
prisoner's coat." He paused a moment, and then continued, raising his
voice a little: "We also find that the button handed to the alcalde by
the witness, Spikenard Quinley, and said to have been found by him on
the spot of ground where the struggle took place between the murdered
man and his murderers, to be exactly similar in design, size, and shape
to the remaining buttons on the prisoner's coat, and that it appears to
be the missing button."

"But--but," stammered Thure, his face white and tense with excitement,
"that button, if it came from my clothes, could not have been found on
the ground where the miner was murdered. Why, I did not even have on the
same clothes that day that I have on now--"

"What!" and the alcalde jumped to his feet, his face white and stern,
while again that deep-throated growl went up from the crowd, "What do
you mean by 'that day?' Do you realize that your expression amounts
almost to a confession of guilt?"

"No," and Thure turned firmly to the alcalde. By a desperate effort he
had recovered his self-control. "It means, if that button was found on
the spot where the miner was murdered, that it did not come from my
clothes; for I did not have on the same clothes on the day we found the
wounded miner that I have on now. The button, if it came from my
clothes, and I confess that it looks as if it did, must have been got by
that man in some other way," and Thure's eyes flashed wrathfully in the
direction of Quinley, who grinned and touched his neck suggestively.

A hoarse laugh, that had no sound of mirth in it, came from the
surrounding crowd, at this improbable explanation of Thure, an
explanation that strengthened rather than weakened their belief in the
testimony of Quinley; but a look of relief, as well as of surprise, came
on the face of the alcalde.

"Ah, I forgot. We have not yet heard your story. You say that you found
the miner, John Stackpole, found him wounded?" he asked eagerly. "Then
he is still alive?"

"Yes, we found him," Thure answered slowly, "found him in the hands of
his murderers, but not in time to save him. He died before we could get
him home."

"Died! And in your hands!" and again the alcalde's face grew stern, and
again that hoarse unbelieving laugh came from the crowd. "Young man, do
you realize that you are telling a very improbable-sounding story? But,"
and the alcalde resumed his judicial gravity of countenance, "I am
forgetting that you are not on the witness stand. The button, it appears
then, came from the prisoner's coat," and he turned to the foreman of
the jury.

"It does," answered the foreman gravely.

"The prisoner may return to his place by the side of the sheriff. Now,"
and the alcalde's eyes searched the surrounding faces, "is there anyone
else present who has any testimony to give against the prisoners now on
trial before this court for the murder of John Stackpole?" and he
paused, to give anyone who wished to do so time to come forward.

"I reckon the testimony is plenty sufficient as it now stands," and a
huge brutal-looking man pushed his way through the crowd and faced the
alcalde. "Haven't two reputable witnesses sworn that they saw the
prisoners kill the man? Didn't one of them find a buttom that has been
proven to belong to the coat of one of the prisoners on the very spot
where the man was killed? And what can be offered in disproof of all
this? Nothing but the word of the prisoners themselves, who certainly
would lie to save their necks, if they would kill a man to get his gold.
I move," and he whirled about and faced the crowd, now muttering and
growling like a huge beast, "that the jury be instructed to render their
verdict now, so that we can hang them two young devils and get about our
business. All in favor--"

"Wait!" The alcalde's voice rang out clear and imperative; and, as he
spoke, he stepped out in front of the barrel, one of the big revolvers
held in each hand. "Before you put your motion I have a few words to
say; and, after I have said my few words, you can put your motion; and
we will see whether the men of Sacramento City stand for law and justice
or for mob brutality."

"Hear! Hear!" shouted a number of voices. "The alcalde shall be heard!"

"Men," continued the alcalde, his voice ringing with intense
earnestness, "I stand not here to plead for mercy in behalf of these two
young men, although their youth might almost justify such a plea. I am
here to demand justice. If this court, after fair trial shall find them
guilty of the brutal murder charged against them, then, in the name of
the same justice that I now invoke to protect them, they must hang; for,
in a community situated as we are, self-protection compels us to deal
with murderers with stern and relentless hands. But--Hear my words!--the
prisoners have not yet been proven guilty before this court. They have
not yet had fair trial. They have not yet even been heard in their own
defense. When I took my oath of office to serve you as alcalde, that
oath, the oath you yourselves compelled me to swear, bound me to see
that every prisoner brought before me had fair and speedy trial. I meant
to keep that oath then; and, by the Eternal Andrew Jackson! I mean to
keep it now, if need be with my life. Now, you can put your motion,"
and, with a couple of quick strides, the alcalde placed himself by the
side of the sheriff, near the two prisoners, the two big revolvers held
ready for instant use. He knew that the only way to check mob violence
was to stop it before it gathered momentum.

"Give the prisoners justice!" "They shall have justice!" "Hurrah, for
the alcalde!" shouted a hundred voices; and stern-faced men pushed
themselves through the crowd from every direction and formed a cordon
around the prisoners and the court.

"Go on with the trial. We will see that the court is sustained," and a
man stepped out from the surrounding cordon and bowed to the alcalde.

The mutterings and growlings suddenly ceased. The huge brutal-looking
man slunk back into the crowd, his motion unput.

In the midst of these exciting moments, when the attention of all was
concentrated on the alcalde, Bud suddenly felt a hand thrust something
into his hand from behind. He turned quickly. Bill Ugger stood not four
feet behind him.

"Read," and Ugger moved a couple of steps back and to one side.

Bud glanced down at his hand and saw that he held a bit of folded paper.
Hastily, yet cautiously, he unfolded it and read these words scrawled on
it with a lead pencil:

Me and Spike kan yit save you. Give up the miners map and promis to
tell nobudy of the kave of gold and we wil git you free. Refuse and
we wil let you hang and then git the map off yur ded bodies we wil
git the map anyway so whats the use of given up yur lives. Weve got
things fixed so that you kant eskape the rope unles we save you so
you've got to give us the map or hang. Make yur own choice taint
our funrel.

If you agrees nod yur hed 2 times to Spike and you wil be free in
less than 10 minits.

Bud read these words through slowly; and then, moving up close to Thure,
he passed the paper to him.

"Read it," he said, fixing his eyes anxiously on his comrade's face.

By this time both boys saw plainly how strong was the web of evidence
that the two villains had so cunningly succeeded in throwing around
them; and how completely they appeared to have them in their power. And
what could they do or say to disprove their testimony? Their own tale,
looked at in the light of the evidence of the two men, would seem
improbable, would sound like a tale made up to fit the occasion. And
they could not bring forward a single witness to prove its truthfulness!
No wonder the unfortunate boys were tempted to give up the skin map; for
what is gold, when weighed in the balance against life?

Thure read the note; and then turned to Bud, his face white and his
heart throbbing with anxiety.

"What shall our answer be?" he asked in a whisper. "I hate like sin to
give up the skin map to them two scoundrels; but, I reckon, our fathers
and mothers would rather have our lives than the gold. But," and his
face brightened a little, "we have not yet given our testimony. I reckon
we had better wait until we see how the alcalde and the jury take our
stories before giving up the map."

"Yes," agreed Bud, his own face brightening at the thought of putting
off the surrender a little longer, "we will wait and see what effect our
testimony has. But, I guess you are right, if it comes to hanging," and
he shuddered, "or giving up the map, we'll have to give up the map. But
we won't give up until we've got to," and his face hardened. "Who'd a
thought them two scoundrels could get us in such a terrible fix!" and he
glared wrathfully in the direction of the two men, who now stood close
together regarding Thure and Bud with furtive but anxious eyes.

"Now to give them two skunks their answer," and Thure, holding the paper
out where the two men could see it, deliberately tore it to pieces and,
turning his back scornfully to them, gave his attention to the doings of
the court.

CHAPTER XI

AN UNEXPECTED WITNESS

The alcalde, the moment he saw that the mob spirit had been subdued, had
returned quietly to his place behind the barrel; and, when the two boys
again gave their attention to him, he had just reached his rude seat of
judgment, and was about to speak.

"I knew," he said, as his keen eyes searched the faces of the men, who
had so opportunely formed the cordon of safety around him and his court,
"that I could depend on the good sense and fair-mindedness of the people
of Sacramento City. We will now proceed with the trial," and he quietly
slipped back both of his revolvers into his coat pockets.

"Once more," and the alcalde raised his voice so that all could hear,
"the court asks, is there any other witness to bear testimony against
the two prisoners, if so, let him now step forward."

For a minute or two the alcalde waited. There was no movement, no word
from the surrounding crowd.

"We will now proceed with the examination of the prisoners. Young man,
take your place on the witness stand," and the alcalde turned to Thure.

"Don't get excited. Keep cool," cautioned Bud, as Thure hastened to take
his place in front of the barrel.

A hush came over the great encircling crowd, as Thure stood before
the alcalde and was solemnly sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth. Many of those rough bearded men had sons
of their own back at home, hardly younger than was the prisoner, who
now stood before the bar of justice, with a rope dangling threateningly
above his head; and these men found it hard to believe that that
wholesome-looking, clear-eyed youth could be guilty of the atrocious
crime charged against him. But, there was the evidence; and the laws of
the city must be enforced; and their faces grew stern and sad.

Thure told his story in a clear straightforward way; told how he and Bud
had gone out for a hunt on that day, how they had heard the death-cry of
the unfortunate horse and had slain the huge grizzly, how, just after
they had completed the skinning of the grizzly, they had seen the
struggle of the old miner with his two assailants and had rushed to his
rescue, how the robbers had fled, leaving the miner robbed and mortally
stabbed, how they had endeavored to get him to their home before he
died, but had failed, and, finally, how the miner had died and they had
borne his dead body home and had buried it.

There was hardly a loud sound made while Thure was telling his story.
One could almost have heard the great crowd breathing. When he had
spoken of witnessing the struggle between the miner and his murderers
and of rushing to his rescue, there had been a great stir in the crowd,
but it had quickly subsided, so eager were all to hear every word that
he uttered. His manner and his story made a deep impression; but, alas,
it was soon seen that his evidence had introduced nothing to disprove
the testimony of his two accusers that had any stronger proof back of it
than his own word and the word of his fellow prisoner, while he had
admitted bringing the dead body of the murdered miner home and burying
it, admitted having the dead body of the miner in his possession. This,
at least, was in direct proof of what his accusers had testified; for
they had sworn that they had seen the two boys bear the dead body off
with them. It looked as if they had made their story up to fit in with
the accounts of the previous witnesses and yet disprove the story of
their accusers.

Thure, so far in his testimony, had said nothing of the description the
old miner had given of his murderers. He was saving that for the last,
to be brought out by the questions of the alcalde, if possible. He
wished to make it as emphatic and striking as possible, and yet he did
not wish to appear to give it voluntarily; for he was wise enough to see
that for him and Bud to accuse their accusers might re-act back on
themselves. Fortunately the questions of the alcalde led directly to it.

"You testify," began the alcalde, the moment Thure had apparently
completed his testimony, "that you drove the murderers away from the
body of the miner. Did you get near enough to them to recognize them
again, should you see them?"

"No," Thure answered. "I could only swear that one was a large man and
that the other was small."

"Did you discover anything that would lead you to surmise who committed
the crime?" again asked the alcalde.

"No, not directly," answered Thure hesitatingly. "But the old miner,
just before he died, gave us a description of his two murderers," and he
stopped.

"How did he describe them? Why do you hesitate?" asked the alcalde
sharply.

"Because," answered Thure boldly, "the description the dying miner gave
of his two murderers appears to make us accuse our accusers, as if we
were trying to get back at them, when it is God's truth that we are
uttering."

"Give us the description. We are the ones to judge of its merits,"
commanded the alcalde, his face flushing with interest, while the
surrounding crowd became breathless.

Bud was looking at the two men; and he saw both of them start at the
words of Thure and glance apprehensively into each other's eyes.

"The miner said," and Thure turned his eyes full upon Bill Ugger, "that
one of his murderers was a large, red-headed man with a broken nose; and
that the other," and his eyes turned to the face of Spike Quinley, "was
a small man, with a pock-marked face."

For a moment no one spoke. All eyes were bent on the faces of the two
men. There was no mistaking to whom the description applied. Then a
harsh laugh broke from Bill Ugger.

"Tryin' to turn th' tables on us, be you?" and again he laughed. "Wal, I
reckon, ever'one here believes that yarn. It fits tew pat, not tew be
true. So me an' Spike are th' true murderers, be we? Wal, this is sum
unexpected an' s'prisin', ain't it Spike?" and he turned to his comrade,
grinning and glaring like a huge buffoon; but a close observer might
have noticed that his skin had whitened beneath its red beard.

Quinley had started perceptibly at Thure's description of the miner's
murderers, but he had quickly controlled himself, and a deadly gleam had
come into his wicked little eyes and his thin lips had tightened, as,
unperceived by all eyes, except the eyes the movement was intended for,
he had turned and given a man standing in the edge of the circle a
signal. The man at once had slipped back in the crowd and vanished.

"Powerful s'prisin'," and Quinley turned and grinned back into the face
of Ugger. "I reckon you can already feel th' rope a-tightenin' 'round
y'ur neck, can't you, Bill? That description sart'in fits us as pat as
an old shoe. But th' s'prisin'est thing 'bout it all is, that I don't
'pear tew have any rekerlections of a-committin' that murder. Must have
ben dreamin', when I done it."

The eyes of the alcalde, during this brief byplay, had been closely
watching the faces of the two men. He now turned to Thure again.

"Have you any witnesses, other than your fellow prisoner, to testify to
the truth of your statements?" he asked.

"No," answered Thure; "except that our mothers and our sisters and the
folks at the rancho can testify to our bringing home the body of the
dead miner and that we told them that we had found him just as I have
said that we did."

"That would prove nothing as to who committed the murder. Is there
anyone in Sacramento City that knows either of you two boys?"

"No," again answered Thure. "Not that I know of, unless," and his face
brightened, "Captain Sutler is here. He knows both of us well. We are
expecting to find our dads at Hangtown."

"Captain Sutter is not here," answered the alcalde, "as anyone in the
city might have told you; and it is impossible to send to Hangtown after
your fathers."

"But, are we to be proven guilty on the evidence of those two men alone,
whom I am almost certain committed the crime themselves?" and Thure's
face flushed indignantly. "Is not our word, at least, as good as
theirs?"

"Young man," replied the alcalde sternly, "that is for the jury to
decide. Have you any further evidence to give? If not, and the jury do
not wish to ask you any questions," he paused and glanced toward the
foreman, who shook his head, "you are dismissed, and the other prisoner
can take his place on the witness stand."

For a moment Thure hesitated. He wanted to say something, to do
something to further disprove this horrible accusation--but, what could
he say or do that he had not already said or done? He had told his
story. There was nothing more for him to tell, nothing more for him to
do; and, with tightly compressed lips, he turned and walked from the
witness stand back to his place by the side of the sheriff, while Bud
took his place in front of the barrel.

There was nothing new in Bud's testimony. He could only repeat, in
different words, what Thure had already told.

While Bud was giving his testimony, Spike Quinley worked his way up
close to Thure; and again a piece of paper was slipped furtively into
his hand.

Thure glanced down at the paper. At least here was a chance to escape
the worst. If Bud did not make a better impression than he apparently
had, then there would be nothing left but to surrender the map, that or
hanging. And it must be done soon now, or it would be too late. Thure
shuddered at the thought of the hanging; and, with fingers that trembled
a little, cautiously opened the paper and read these dreadful words:

You have gone and done it now you infernal idjit by testifin' agin
us it is now yur necks or ourn al hel kant save you now you kan
keep the map and we wil git it off yur ded bodies and you kan have
the satisfackshun of noin that you might have ben alive and wel
when yur danglin ded at the end of a rope.

The vindictive scrawl closed with a rude attempt to draw a rope, hanging
from a tree, with a man dangling from one end.

Thure stared blankly at the paper for a moment after he had read the
words that appeared to close their last avenue of escape. He saw clearly
the force of their meaning. It had, indeed, now become a battle for life
between him and Bud and their two accusers. Their testimony, once they
were free, would turn suspicion directly upon Quinley and Ugger. It
would be suicidal for the two men now to attempt to do anything to free
them. Thure raised his eyes and looked wildly around, at the face of the
alcalde, the faces of the jury, and the faces of the surrounding crowd.
On all was a look of ominous sadness and sternness that made his heart
sink. Evidently the words and the actions of the cunning Ugger and the
crafty Quinley had again completely turned the tide against them. But
the worst blow was yet to come.

Bud completed his testimony and, in an ominous silence, was dismissed.
The alcalde arose from his judgment-stump and turned to address a few
final words to the jury; but, as the first word left his mouth, a
commotion occurred in the crowd directly in front of him.

"More testimony! Important testimony!" shouted a voice; and a man, with
his right arm done up in a sling, pushed his way through the encircling
crowd.

The man hastily and keenly scrutinized the faces of the two prisoners.

"Yes, them's sart'inly th' fellers," he said aloud; and turned his eyes
on the faces of their accusers.

"Them's shore th' same two men I seed. Thar's no mistaking them faces,"
he declared, with conviction. "Now," and he turned to the alcalde, "I
asks y'ur pardon, y'ur honor; but, bein' sum crippled with a broken arm,
as you can see, an', on that account, keepin' sum close in my tent, I
heared nuthin' of this trial 'til jest a few minits ago; but, when I did
hear of it, I felt mortally sart'in that it had tew do with th' same
murder that I witness in th' Sacermento Valley three days ago; an',
wantin' tew see that justice made no mistake, I got here as quick as I
could, tew give in my testimony. Hope I'm not tew late," and he fixed
his eyes anxiously on the face of the alcalde.

"No; you are not too late," the alcalde answered, looking at the man
keenly, "if your evidence is of real importance."

"I reckon it is of real importance," answered the man, "seein' that I
saw th' killin' done with my own two eyes; an' was close enough tew
reckernize th' killers plain."

This statement caused a big sensation in the surrounding crowd. All
pressed nearer, and stretched their heads eagerly forward to get a sight
of this new witness, while, "Hush!" "Quiet!" "Shut your mouth!" and like
expressions, came from all around the crowding circle of men.

Thure and Bud had both started with pleased surprise at the words of
this unexpected witness, and their faces lighted up with hope. Here, at
last, was a witness who would tell the truth, who would free them from
this horrible accusation of murder; for, evidently by his actions, he
was as much of a stranger to Ugger and Quinley as he was to themselves,
and, consequently, he could not be in league with their two cunning and
mendacious accusers. They glanced at the two men. Their surprise
appeared to be real; and the two boys thought they detected a look of
fearful consternation on each face.

"Step forward and be sworn," commanded the alcalde, the moment the buzz
of the excitement caused by the words of the man with the broken arm had
ceased.

The man stepped quickly in front of the barrel; and was sworn, in the
same manner the other witnesses had been sworn, to tell the truth.

"What is your name and business?" demanded the alcalde.

"John Skoonly," replied the man; "an' I'm bound for th' diggin's. Jest
got in from San Francisco this mornin'."

"Now, John Skoonly," and the alcalde's eyes rested steadily on the
witness's face as he settled back on his stump, "kindly tell the jury
and the people gathered here, what you know of the case now being tried
before them."

"I was on my way from San Francisco tew here," began the witness, "when
three days ago I wandered off th' main trail tew do a little huntin' an'
was throwed by my hoss an' broke my right arm. That took all th' hunt
out of me; an' I laid down under sum trees that growed 'long side a crik
tew try an' do sumthin' tew ease up th' pain an' tew git a little rest
afore I started back for th' trail.

"Wal, I reckon I hadn't ben thar more'n half an hour, when I heared a
screech that fairly lifted my hat off my head, a-comin' from th' open
valley, jest beyont th' trees whar I was a-lyin' in th' shade, an'
a-soundin' like sum feller was gittin' hurt mortal bad. I jumps up quick
an' runs tew sum bushes that growed a-treen me an' th' sound, an' looks
through 'em, a little cautious-like on account of my broken arm, an'
seed three men a-strugglin' on th' ground not more'n forty rods from
whar I was; an' th' next I knowed I heared a lot of yellin', an' seen
tew men jump out of th' bushes sum twenty rods below me, an' start
runnin' for them fightin' men. But, afore they'd made a dozen jumps, tew
of them men springs up from th' ground, th' other man didn't 'pear tew
have any spring left in him, but lay still, grabs up their rifles an'
hollers tew them runnin' men tew stop sudden, or they'd shoot; an' th'
men stops sudden, they havin' only pistols. Then th' tew men with rifles
yells for them tew git an' git quick, an' one on 'em fires his rifle;
an', I reckon, th' bullet must have come close, for th' tew men whirled
'bout like they was sum scart an' started back for th' bushes.

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