Part 11 (1/2)
Riley Sinclair lowered his head with a sigh. Was not he himself playing the part of the hawk? He looked straight into the eyes of the prisoner, and Jig met the gaze without flinching. He merely smiled in an apologetic manner, and he made a little gesture with his right hand, as if to admit that he was helpless, and that he cast himself upon the good will of Riley Sinclair. Riley jerked his head to one side and scowled. He hated that appeal. He wanted this hanging to be the work of seven men, not of one.
Montana returned, bringing with him a yellow-covered, red-backed book.
”They wasn't a sign of a Bible in the house,” he stated, ”but I found this here history of the United States, with the Declaration of Independence pasted into the back of it. I figured that ought to do about as well as a Bible.”
”You got a good head, Montana,” said his honor. ”Open up to that there Declaration. Here, La.r.s.en, put your hand on this and swear you're telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. They ain't going to be any b.u.m testimony taken in this court. We ain't going to railroad this lynching through.”
He caught a glistening light of grat.i.tude in the eyes of the schoolteacher. Riley's own breast swelled with a sense of virtue. He had never before taken the life of a helpless man; and now that it was necessary, he would do it almost legally.
La.r.s.en willingly took the oath. ”I'm going to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, d.a.m.n me if I don't! I was over to Shorty Lander's store the other day--”
”What day?”
”Hmm! Last Tuesday, I reckon.”
”Go on, La.r.s.en, but gimme nothin' but the facts.”
”I seen Jig come into the store. 'I want to look at a revolver,'” he said.
”'The deuce you do! What might you want to do with a revolver, Jig?'
says Shorty. 'You mean you want a toy gun?'
”I remember them words particular clear, because I didn't see how even a spineless gent like Jig could stand for such a pile of insult. But he just sort of smiled with his lips and got steady with his eyes, like he was sort of grieved.
”'I want a gun that'll kill a man,' he says to Shorty.
”Shorty and me both laughed, but, when Shorty brung out a forty-five, doggone me if Jig didn't buy the gun.
”'Look here,' says he, 'is this the way it works?'
”And he raises it up in his skinny hand. I had to laugh.
”'Hold it in both hands,' says I.
”'Oh,' says he, and darned if he didn't take it in both hands.
”'It seems much easier to handle in this way,' says he.
”But that's what I seen. I seen him buy a gun to kill a man. Them was his words, and I figure they're a mouthful.”
La.r.s.en retired.
”Damagin' evidence, they ain't no question,” said Mr. Clerk severely.
”But I can lay over it, your honor.”
”Blaze away, judge.”
La.r.s.en took the oath. ”I'm going to show you they was bad feelings between the prisoner and the dead man, your honor. I was over to the dance at the Woodville schoolhouse a couple of weeks ago. Jig was there, not dancing or nothing, but sitting in a corner, with all the girls, mostly, hanging around him. They kept hanging around looking real foolish at him, and Jig looks back at 'em as if they wasn't there.