Part 58 (2/2)

Carmody, rejoicing in his legal supremacy, and moved by love of drama, opened proceedings with all the dignity and authority of a judge, explaining in sonorous terms that this was an adjourned session of an inquest upon the death of one Edward Watson, a rancher on the Sh.e.l.lfish.

”New witnesses have been secured and new evidence has developed,” he said in closing, ”and Mr. L. J. Hanscom, the forest ranger, who has important testimony to give, will first take the stand.”

Though greatly embarra.s.sed by the eyes of the vast audience and somewhat intimidated by the judicial tone of Carmody's voice, Hanscom went forward and told his story almost without interruption, and at the end explained his own action.

”Of course, I didn't intend to help anybody side-step justice when I took the Kauffmans to the station, because I heard the coroner say he had excused them.”

”What about those raiders?” asked one of the jurors. ”Did you recognize the man who shot Kauffman's horse?”

Carmody interrupted: ”We can't go into that. That has no connection with the question which we are to settle, which is, Who killed Watson?”

”Seems to me there is a connection,” remarked Rawlins. ”If those raiders were the same people Hanscom arrested in the cabin, wouldn't it prove something as to their character?”

”Sure thing!” answered another of the jurors.

”A man who would shoot a horse like that might shoot a man, 'pears to me,” said a third.

”All right,” said Carmody. ”Mr. Hanscom, you may answer. Did you recognize the man who fired that shot?”

”No, he was too far away; but the horse he rode was a sorrel--the same animal which the Cuneo girl rode.”

Raines interrupted: ”Will you _swear_ to that?”

”No, I won't swear to it, but I think--”

Raines was savage. ”Mr. Coroner, we don't want what the witness _thinks_--we want what he _knows_.”

”Tell us what you know,” commanded Carmody.

”I know this,” retorted Hanscom. ”The man who fired that shot rode a sorrel blaze-faced pony and was a crack gunman. To drop a running horse at that distance is pretty tolerable shooting, and it ought to be easy to prove who the gunner was. I've heard say Henry Kitsong--”

”I object!” shouted Raines, and Carmody sustained the objection.

”Pa.s.sing now to your capture of the housebreakers,” said he, ”tell the jury how you came to arrest the girl.”

”Well, as I entered the cabin the girl Rita was sitting with her feet on a stool, and the size and shape of her shoe soles appeared to me about the size and shape of the tracks made in the flour, and I had just started to take one of her shoes in order to compare it with the drawings I carried in my pocket-book when Busby jumped me. I had to wear him out before I could go on; but finally I made the comparison and found that the soles of her shoes fitted the tracks exactly. Then I decided to bring her down, too.”

A stir of excited interest pa.s.sed over the hall, but Raines checked it by asking: ”Did you compare the shoes with the actual tracks on the porch floor?”

”No, only with the drawings I had made in my note-book.”

Raines waved his hand contemptuously. ”That proves nothing. We don't know anything about those drawings.”

”I do,” retorted Carmody, ”and so does the jury; but we can take that matter up later. You can step down, Mr. Hanscom, and we'll hear James B.

Durgin.”

Durgin, a bent, gray-bearded old rancher, took the stand and swore that he had witnessed a hot wrangle between Kauffman and Watson, and that he had heard the Dutchman say, ”I'll get you for this!”

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