Part 60 (2/2)

”Yes.”

”What did he say?”

At this point she became tearful, and the most that could be drawn from her was a statement that Watson had refused to loan or sell her any blankets. She denied that Busby was with her, and insisted that she was alone till Carmody convinced her that she was only making matters worse by such replies.

”Your visit was at night,” he said. ”You would never have walked in that flour in the daytime, and you wouldn't have gone there alone in the night. Busby wouldn't have permitted you to go to Watson's alone--he knew Watson too well.” The force of this remark was felt by nearly every person in the room.

Hanscom said: ”Mr. Coroner, this girl is trying to s.h.i.+eld Busby, and I want her confronted by him, and I want Eli Kitsong called.”

By this time many admitted that they might have been mistaken in accusing the Kauffmans of the deed.

Busby, a powerful young fellow, made a bad impression on the stand. His face was both sullen and savage, and the expression of his eyes furtive.

He was plainly on guard even before Raines warned him to be careful.

”My name is Hart Busby,” he said, in answer to Carmody. ”I'm twenty-six years old. I was born in the East. I've been here eight years.” Here he stopped, refusing to say where his parents lived or when he first met Margarita. He flatly denied having had any serious trouble with Watson, and declared that he had not seen him for almost a year.

”What were you doing in the Kauffmans' cabin?” demanded Hanscom. ”You won't deny my finding you there, will you?”

He told the same story that Rita had sworn to. ”We were riding by and saw that the place was deserted, and so we went in to look around.”

”When did _you_ first hear of Watson's death?” asked Carmody.

The witness hesitated. A look of doubt, of evasion, in his eyes. ”Why, the ranger told us.”

”Which of you owns that sorrel horse?” asked one of the jury.

Raines again interposed. ”You needn't answer that,” he warned. ”That's not before the court.”

Carmody went on. ”Now, Busby, you might as well tell us the truth. Henry and Rita both state that Watson had refused to pay you, and that you had a sc.r.a.p and Watson kicked you off the place. Is that true?”

Raines rescued him. ”You don't have to answer that,” he said, and the witness breathed an almost inaudible sigh of relief.

A violent altercation arose at this point between the coroner and the lawyer. Carmody insisted on his right to ask any question he saw fit, and Raines retorted that the witness had a right to refuse to incriminate himself.

”You stick to your bread pills and vials,” he said to the coroner, ”and don't a.s.sume a knowledge of the law. You become ridiculous when you do.”

”I know my powers,” retorted Carmody in high resentment, ”and you keep a civil tongue in your head or I'll fine you for contempt. I may not know all the ins and outs of court procedure, but I'm going to see justice done, and I'm going to see that you keep your place.”

”You can't steam-roll me,” roared Raines.

The argument became so hot that Throop was forced to interfere, and in the excitement and confusion of the moment Busby mad a dash for the door, and would have escaped had not Hanscom intercepted him. The room was instantly in an uproar. Several of Busby's friends leaped to his aid, and for a few minutes it seemed as if the coroner's court had resolved itself into an arena for battling bears. Busby fought desperately, and might have gained his freedom, after all, had not Rawlins taken a hand.

At last Throop came into action. ”Stop that!” he shouted, and fetched Busby a blow that ended his struggles for the moment. ”Let go of him, Hanscom,” he said. ”I'll attend to him.”

Hanscom and Rawlins fell back, and Throop, placing one huge paw on the outlaw's shoulder, shoved the muzzle of a revolver against his neck.

”Now you calm right down, young man, and remember you're in court and not in a barroom.”

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