Part 134 (2/2)
”You, Mister Cash Calhoun.”
”On what charge?”
”The churge o' killin' Henry Peintdexter--yur own cousin.”
”It's a lie! A d.a.m.ned slanderous lie; and whoever says it--!”
”Shet up yur head!” cries Zeb, with an authoritative gesture. ”Ye're only wastin' breath. Ef this chile ain't mistook about it, ye'll need all ye've got afore long. k.u.m, now! make riddy to reeturn wi' us! The judge air awaitin'; the jury air awaitin'; an _justice_ air waitin', too--in the shape o' three score Reg'lators.”
”I'm not going back,” doggedly responds Calhoun. ”By what authority do you command me? You have no warrant?”
”Hain't I, though?” interrupts Zeb. ”What d'ye call this?” he adds, pointing to his rifle. ”Thur's my warrant, by the grace o' G.o.d; an by thet same, this chile air a goin' to execute it. So no more o' yur durned palaver: for I ain't the sort to stan' it. Take yur choice, Mister Cash Calhoun. Mount thet old maar o' mine, an k.u.m along quickly; or try the toother dodge, an git toated like a packidge o' merchandice: for back yur boun' to go--I swar it by the Eturnal!”
Calhoun makes no reply. He glances at Stump--at Gerald--despairingly around him; then stealthily towards a six-shooter, protruding from the breast-pocket of his coat--the counterpart of that shaken out of his hand, as the rope settled around him.
He makes an effort to reach the pistol--feeble, because only half resolved.
He is restrained by the lazo; perhaps more by a movement on the part of Zeb; who, with a significant gesture, brings his long gun to the level.
”Quick!” exclaims the hunter. ”Mount, Mister Calhoun! Thur's the maar awaitin' for ye. Inter the seddle, I say!”
Like a puppet worked by the wires of the showman, the ex-captain of cavalry yields compliance with the commands of the backwoodsman. He does so, from a consciousness that there is death--certain death--in disobeying them.
Mechanically he mounts the mare; and, without resistance, suffers her to be led away from the spot.
Zeb, afoot, strides on in advance.
The mare, at bridle-length, follows upon his tracks.
The mustanger rides reflectingly behind; thinking less of him held at the end of his lazo, than of her, who by a generous self-sacrifice, has that day riveted around his heart a golden chain--only by death to be undone!
CHAPTER NINETY NINE.
ATTEMPTED MURDER AND SUICIDE.
After its second involuntary recess--less prolonged than the first--the Court has once more resumed its functions under the great evergreen oak.
It is now evening; and the sunbeams, falling aslant, intrude upon the s.p.a.ce canopied by the tree.
From the golden brightness, displayed by them at noon, they have changed to a lurid red--as if there was anger in the sky!
It is but an accident of the atmosphere--the portent of an approaching storm.
For all this, it is remarked as singular, that a storm should be coming at the time: since it symbolises the sentiment of the spectators, who look on with sullenness in their hearts, and gloom in their glances.
It would seem as if Heaven's wrath was acting in concert with the pa.s.sions of Earth!
Maurice Gerald is no longer the cynosure of those scowling eyes. He has been clamorously acquitted, and is henceforth only one of the witnesses.
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